Arabian Knights
by lpdrunknmunky
Summary: A humble merchant's son journeys to an ancient land of adventure, far from home in a harsh desert country. Ichigo meets an intriguing young man there named Uryuu. Despite their intense chemistry, countless barriers work to keep them apart. A furious sultan, palace politics, a malicious alchemist, and even their own short tempers work to ruin what they might have together.
1. The Desert

Title: Arabian Knights

Pairing: Uryuu & Ichigo

Rating: NC-17/M

Warnings: AU, m/m sex, some language, violence

AN: Inspired by the Arabian-style Bleach cover for manga chapter 176, Middle-Eastern culture, and Aladdin. Apologies for the lame title!

Suggested Soundtrack: "Serenity" by Godsmack, "Masters of the Universe" by Juno Reactor, and "Isis: Deep Mix" by Seven Lions

* * *

 **I – The Desert**

* * *

Sand-spiked wind whips Ichigo's face where his tattered headscarf doesn't cover the skin. His eyes are dry and red despite thick lashes spread wide to catch the abrasive grains between them. They've been trudging nonstop along this desert road since dawn, only once pausing for a meal, in their haste to reach the foreign kingdom before dusk. The leader of their little merchant expedition, his dubiously venerable father, shouts generic phrases of encouragement to his exhausted team over the weather's dull roar. It's far from the first time they've all had to eschew comfort for Isshin's far-reaching goals.

"I think we should stop, Dad," Ichigo yells over a particularly angry gust. "Looks like a sandstorm on the horizon!"

"Don't be silly, my cherished son, that's just a harmless cloud."

Beside him, Renji scoffs and asks, "A dark, billowing cloud raking the ground and frightening all the camels? Listen to Ichigo for a change, Kurosaki-san."

"It's better to waste another night on travel than lose our wares to the desert," agrees Ikkaku. "Makes no sense to risk it."

"The sultan is expecting us bright and early tomorrow morning, not later in the afternoon," Isshin reminds them, tugging an anxious dromedary back into line by its leather reins. "You all don't know him like I do; he doesn't respond kindly to tardiness. Anyway, we can't be more than a couple of miles from the outskirts. We continue."

Unusually quiet, Keigo groans behind Ichigo but holds his comments. More worrying than a foreboding storm, the skittish animals, or his companions' complaining is the number one complainer gone silent from the sheer arduousness of their trip. Ichigo slows his steps to let his friend catch up. The man's longer brown hair is swirling around his face, obscuring the rough grimace Ichigo knows must be there.

"You okay, man?"

"Ugh."

Looking him over as well as he can through the crust cluttering the corners of his eyes, Ichigo digs out his water skin and hands it to him. Keigo shakes his head but Ichigo makes him take it, not satisfied until he drinks half the remainder. They ran out of goat's milk a while back, so they have to be careful with how much pure water they take in. The young man thanks him, looking a little less delirious but no livelier. Ichigo glances up to scowl at his father's back, shrouded in his trademark billowing black cape.

Although he knows why Isshin does things the way he does, Ichigo can't say he always approves of the harsher methods, however much they're softened by cheerfulness. The trek from their native country to this dynasty across the desert isn't easy, no matter how you take it. Isshin has made the trip a handful of times in his life so far, only recently dragging the rest of his team along in efforts to establish a stronger business relationship now that they've expanded enough to meet demand there.

Ichigo has been a merchant's apprentice until this year, when he finally reached the accepted age and expertise of partnership. He will inherit the family business after Isshin now, for what it's worth. Truth be told, Ichigo doesn't know what he wants but he's fairly certain it isn't this life. Making and selling supplies to people who need them has its own rewards, to be sure, but Ichigo has always wondered if there was something more.

His mother told him tales of adventure and intrigue as a child. Stories of warriors and princesses, djinn and demons, gods and magi. Even though he knows these myths are not real, Ichigo still dreams of fighting for a true cause, discovering new lands, and protecting others. He has accepted his fate of contributing to his family and most of the time it's enough that he can help keep his younger sisters safe. Yet, sometimes he still wonders what could be.

Some of the sand clears in a sharp, slanting zephyr and suddenly the city opens up before them. His father gives a hoot of happiness and picks up his pace while spouting _told-you-so_ s for all to hear. Down a shallow hill and across a small barren plain, they finally reach a cluster of taupe tents making up the city's outskirts. In the distance, high stone walls border a vast kingdom encircling an impressive, tri-tiered palace jutting proudly from the center. Its pure white facade gleams in the late evening sunlight and provides stark contrast to the dingier architecture surrounding it.

Just as Ichigo is wondering how the hell they keep that thing so clean, Isshin excitedly hails a nearby townsperson. A boy about the age of Yuzu and Karin, he stumbles to a stop on his way from the well. He sets his full buckets down and gives what must be the customary show of respect in this land. Isshin haphazardly returns it and dons a wide grin to speak to the boy in a halting attempt at their language. Ichigo knows all of three words, none of them useful in this context, but he picks up that the boy's name is Hanatarou.

He leads them to a nicer-looking tent further in and does his best to introduce their group to someone who must be the leader in this little settlement, a scary-looking boulder of a man named Kenpachi. Beside him, Ikkaku narrows calculating eyes at the beast and Ichigo knows it's only a matter of time before a pointless fight breaks out. He exchanges a resigned gaze with Yumichika, even more familiar with Ikkaku's volatile nature.

Losing interest due to lack of conversation comprehension, Ichigo occupies himself by looking around. Unfortunately, there isn't much to see. A bunch of dusty villagers working in and outside of dusty tents while wearing dusty clothes and drinking dusty water. Nothing he hasn't seen before in his own city. He's more interested to see that palace. Equally foreboding and magnetic, it seems to draw Ichigo right into a powerful daydream full of battles and glory. As his father steps into the leader's tent to barter, Ichigo turns to gaze out at the structure with its mighty parapets and gilded domes. There's nothing so majestic where he's from. It reminds him of those childhood legends, makes him think they might not be so impossible after all. In that sort of place, Ichigo wouldn't be surprised to find things like sentient parrots and evil sorcerers.

A quiet voice disturbs his reverie. He turns in mild curiosity and does a double-take. The young man addressing him is a diamond amongst coal. Far from the dingy burlap vestments worn by everyone else here, this guy wears silks dyed in rich azures, vivid golds, and crisp whites under a cream-colored cape shielding most of it from the elements. His night-black hair—where it slips out from a customary turban—is shiny and lush compared with the lank mops of others. Most striking, though, is the bold blue of his eyes unerringly trained on Ichigo's.

"Eh?" he asks. When the man repeats himself in the language Ichigo still doesn't understand, he shakes his head and manages, "Sorry, I'm not from around here."

Which is a damned shame because of all the things Ichigo could be doing right now, talking to a stunning man with eyes like that would be at the top of his list. Ichigo starts muttering something about being stuck trailing his merchant father and their rag-tag employees as he looks the man over more thoroughly. He knows he's being rude but he can't seem to make himself care, given the view before him. By the time he works his way back up to the man's face, he notices a crooked smirk to those full lips.

"Ah, in that case, I'll get some practice speaking your language for a change." Ichigo's mouth falls open at that. He's almost certain he just finished uttering some vague compliment to the man's physique, thinking he wouldn't be understood anyway. "And, thank you. No one has ever called me 'hot' before. I'm assuming from context that's a good thing in your culture?"

"Uh, yeah," he tries not to explode from embarrassment. "It is. I'm Ichigo of the clan Kurosaki."

"Nice to meet you." The man flashes that smirk again but doesn't offer his name in return, which kind of ticks Ichigo off. "So you're here to negotiate for permanent merchant status? What do you offer? That particular hue of fuchsia you're wearing is a rarity here. Do you market clothing as well as dyes?"

Just like that, communications are opened and Ichigo falls into conversation faster than a hidden trapdoor. Ducking into a nearby unoccupied tent to escape the encroaching sandstorm, they talk over howling gusts about everything from commerce to politics to culture. Ichigo is more immersed in sharing and learning than he can ever remember being with anyone outside his family in his entire life. Before it occurs to him to worry about time or wonder where the rest of his group has wandered off to, this stranger has him wishing he didn't have to.

"Of course I'm not saying religion is unnecessary," Ichigo amends his previous statement, "But I don't see why people have to take it so far all the time. We shouldn't be attacking each other over beliefs that don't affect anyone but ourselves."

"I agree, but you have to consider that religion is not uniform among practitioners. It doesn't have the same influence on all those who claim it. Not to mention different sects will hold alternate meanings to the same text and tenants."

"True, but when it comes to battle, there's no need for its interference."

"Oh, do you know much about the art of war, merchant's son?" the man asks with raised eyebrow and trademark smirk. "Seen many battles? Judging by your build, I wouldn't be shocked to hear it."

"Well, I'm not exactly a soldier, but..."

Seeing the way he is being appraised now, Ichigo trails off uncertainly. The man nods as his eyes trail him up and down. Something in his expression tells Ichigo he isn't just sizing him up for physical strength and fighting prowess. An uncomfortable squirming in his stomach has him shifting on his feet.

"How about a demonstration?"

"What!?"

"A mere sparring match. No weapons."

"Are you serious? Is that...legal here?"

"Of course. We're not barbarians," the man snorts disdainfully. Then he adopts a mischievous gleam and a dangerous tone to add, "A private tousle between consenting individuals is no business of anyone else."

Ichigo swallows hard. "Sure, yeah. We can spar a little if you want. Right here or do you have a better arena in mind?"

"Doesn't matter." He takes a long step closer to say, "It won't be my back hitting the dirt."

Fascinated even as he is annoyed at the assertion, Ichigo narrows his eyes and smirks back.

"You're on."

Sweeping their capes back out of the way of swifter movements, they assume practiced fighting stances and start to circle each other. There is little furniture in the primitive hovel, so they have plenty of space to maneuver. Ichigo is confident of a win; he has grown up brawling with rivals and miscreants in addition to formal tutoring, as is the Kurosaki way. Not to mention his rowdy group of friends who love to fight over the slightest issues and Ichigo has more combat experience than most soldiers. This guy seems to have good balance, quick wit, and sharp eyes, but he's too slender to present much of a challenge.

Or so Ichigo thinks until his direct lunge is turned against him and he winds up sprawled on the ground within the first few seconds. He stares up at the man currently careful to hide his smug smile as he helps Ichigo up with a steady arm.

"You weren't ready: my apologies."

Shaking it off, Ichigo ignores the comment and gets back into stance. This time he watches closer and notices how his opponent uses fast, minimal movements to turn Ichigo's momentum back on him, compensating for his lack of bulk. But Ichigo can be fast, too, and he proves this by turning the man's jab into a twist that allows him to lock his arm around a slim throat. Before he can give a warning squeeze, the man slips from the hold and swivels Ichigo's arm behind his back. The leverage becomes painful but a quiet grunt has his partner letting up immediately.

The next punch glances off the man's side and becomes an opportunity for Ichigo to get a knee to the gut. It is softened by a considerate pull, but it still knocks most of the breath from him. Irritated now, Ichigo grabs him by the thigh and yanks to the side. His opponent somehow turns it into a graceful crouch and swipes the other leg out to once again lay Ichigo on the ground. He rotates at the waist to perch just atop Ichigo and blink down at him with a blank expression.

"Is this how people fight in your country? No wonder you're a merchant instead of a warrior."

"Shut up," he snaps, grabbing two handfuls of the man's thick cloak to drag him closer. "Be glad I'm holding back so you won't ruin this fancy outfit."

"I have others," the man murmurs back. "Ruin away."

He's tempted. It's clear this guy has better tactics and speed, but it's also true that Ichigo isn't giving it his all. Usually he either has to be terrified or furious to fight like he means it, too worried he might actually hurt his sparring partner. Especially when they're as attractive and intriguing as this man. But stronger than the urge to show off is the inclination to turn this into something else. The deep blue eyes staring into him aren't those of _blood_ lust, but another type entirely. Ichigo may not have ample experience in this area, but even he knows desire when he sees it. Besides, he's been throwing innuendo and double-entendres around from the beginning.

Trouble is, Ichigo knows absolutely nothing about this person, and he was never one to act on selfish impulse. Especially when his father is working so hard to expand his business into foreign territory. The last thing Ichigo wants to do is step on some important diplomat's toes by sleeping with their husband or son. The stranger seems to read the decision from Ichigo's face as it is made. He frowns lightly and pushes up to hold out a hand. Ichigo takes it and mirrors his disappointment.

"Rain check? I'm sort of in unknown waters here."

"I understand," he nods, and Ichigo believes him. "I'll put in a good word for your enterprise in town."

"You don't have to do that."

"Don't be absurd, it's my pleasure. I can't remember the last time someone provided such stimulating conversation."

The words are innocent enough, but the way they are said has Ichigo's heart thumping even harder. He thanks the man again and watches him turn to leave, pausing at the entrance to confirm the storm has passed. Just before he steps out, Ichigo reaches for his wrist.

"Wait." He turns to look at Ichigo in silent question. "What's your name?"

Hesitation. A smile. "Uryuu."

Ichigo watches him sweep from the tent and down the winding path towards the city's colossal gates, fine clothes snapping in the persistent breeze. A twinge of regret starts to wriggle in his belly and the ridiculous thought that he should run after Uryuu crosses his mind. With a city this large, it might be next to impossible to find the man again, particularly with just a given name. Maybe it's not meant to be.

"There you are, Ichigo," calls Keigo from a few tents away. "Where have you been this whole time?"

"What're you talking about? I was only gone for..." Checking the time via the sun's position, Ichigo balks. "Two hours?"

"Closer to three. You missed dinner! Aren't you hungry?" Now that he thinks about it, Ichigo is ravenous. His stomach rumbles as if on cue and Keigo laughs as he slings an arm over his shoulders to guide him towards their group. "Come on, I think there were some leftovers. Seems you made it through the storm all right."

"Yeah, no problem."

"Hey, I know that look...Did you meet a girl!? You sly devil! How dare you go hooking up without me—"

"I wasn't hooking up, I was just talking," he grumbles, reddening despite himself. "Forget about it."

"I am officially hurt, Ichigo. How are we friends?"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo tunes him out and focuses on switching back into merchant-mode.

* * *

When he meets back up with his dad, Isshin fills him in on the meeting he missed and tomorrow's plan. They spend the rest of the evening talking shop and recuperating from the long travel. There is some light revelry involved, courtesy of Kenpachi's casks. It's not the best wine he's ever had, but after a journey like that anything will do. It's more than enough to encourage Ikkaku to challenge Kenpachi—and lose. Ichigo can't help laughing along with everyone else as his friend dramatically vows to return stronger later so they can fight again.

The long bath he is fortunate enough to take is tepid, but given the chance to finally shed several days' dirt, he isn't about to complain. All said and done, Ichigo is left wandering after dark by himself to find his borrowed tent somewhere among this massive cluster of nondescript structures, equipped solely with obscure, half-muttered directions. Needless to say he gets lost on the way with no one still out and about to stop and ask for help. Just as he is considering turning around to retrace his steps all the way back to the leader's tent, he spots someone sliding through the shadows like spilled ink.

"Are you lost?"

Ichigo starts. Separated by hours of information overload and maybe too much celebration, he still recognizes this new voice. "Uryuu!? I thought you went back to the city."

He shrugs. "I figured this place might be more interesting tonight. Come on, I'll help you find your tent."

"How would you know where—"

Without waiting for permission, Uryuu grabs a handful of his cloak and jerks him in the opposite direction. Too worn-out to put up much of a fight, Ichigo allows himself to be guided further away from the outskirts' epicenter. Standing alone in a shallow depression bordering the makeshift town sits a larger tent. Freshly-pitched and far cleaner than the others. Uryuu pushes in through the narrow entrance and Ichigo cautiously follows, thinking he really should keep his guard up since he still doesn't know this person.

Inside is the deepest darkness and Ichigo goes rigid on instinct. He hears the scrape of something metallic and draws one of his daggers, stooping into a battle-ready position. Then light flares, causing him to blink in its sudden brilliance, and Uryuu is holding a lantern with a teasing smirk for Ichigo's wariness. Feeling sheepish, he sheaths the weapon and watches the man continue to light some candles scattered around the wide enclosure.

Although he expects sparse furnishings and decor, Ichigo is glad to be wrong. The interior is lavishly-decorated with enough creature comforts fit for a king. Silks hang from the ceiling's center and radiate out to connect to the walls in a vibrant starburst. A thick mattress layered in soft bedding and plush pillows makes a nice centerpiece. Crates covered in yet more fabrics serve as tabletops and chairs. A couple of large chests contain what he guesses to be food, eating utensils, and other supplies. Ichigo knows he is gaping but he feels it is very much justified.

"Make yourself comfortable, Ichigo."

"There is no way this is my tent," he feels compelled to point out. "Who _are_ you?"

"No one important, if that's what you're worried about."

"Right..."

Better judgment tells him he should turn tail and flee while he still can. This is so far over his head it's not even funny. He turns to Uryuu to say as much when he notices the man has removed his cloak to drape over a chair and that he is working on the rest of his attire, as well. Noticing the scrutiny, he raises his eyes to Ichigo's and slows his motions to make them more deliberate. The steady reveal of fair skin starts Ichigo's mouth watering.

"I won't hold you prisoner, but you're more than welcome to stay," Uryuu says as he shrugs out of the vest and drops it on top of his cloak. "Although if you do, there is one condition."

"What's that?" he rasps.

He allows the shirt flaps to fall, barely holding onto a shoulder on one side and sliding over a round biceps on the other, before closing the short distance between them. This close, Ichigo notices a thin line of dark kohl ringing his eyes that he's pretty sure wasn't there earlier. It makes the rich blue stand out all the more and momentarily mesmerizes him. Uryuu leans in close, almost exactly Ichigo's height, and stops right before their lips touch. He smells of spicy essential oils and clean silk.

"You'll have to share my bed."

Uryuu leaves the choice up to him, staying in reach but not pressing the issue. A hundred half-thoughts flash through Ichigo's mind but nothing sticks. How is he meant to make a decision when faced with something like this? Offering a starving man a feast but withholding the cost? All he can think is how nice it would be to touch someone for a change, rather than endlessly fighting or working or walking. It's been so long! It seems too good to be true; there must be a catch. Ichigo isn't sure he could survive the fallout.

He also isn't sure he cares.

"Deal."

Ichigo doesn't give Uryuu the chance to smile at that, immediately ducking down the scant inch to connect their lips in a frantic greeting. He grabs and pushes and pulls, tasting and feeling. Uryuu doesn't stop him but he doesn't show the same wild enthusiasm, either. A flickering flame to Ichigo's roaring inferno. Confused, Ichigo leans away to look at him.

"Is this how they make love in your country?" Uryuu whispers between them. "No wonder I had to lure you here to get you to kiss me."

"Huh?" He tries not to be offended, he really does, but it's not quite working. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means: why the rush? We have all night." Stepping away to crack open one of the chests, Uryuu reaches inside and lifts out a small glass vial filled with red-tinged liquid. He uncaps it and Ichigo smells cinnamon. "Let's take our time."

"What is that stuff?"

"They call it massage oil, made for rubbing into the skin." He holds the potion out for Ichigo to examine. "This particular type is my favorite. _Tingly_."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Take off your clothes and see."

Heart hammering harder than ever, Ichigo yanks at his weapons belt and drops it to the floor with a dull thud. Uryuu takes a step back to watch while he moves on to his shirts. As he settles his hands to the tie of his pants, Uryuu stops him by spreading warm fingers across his chest and over the curves of his shoulders. As promised, the oil pleasantly tingles wherever it touches bare flesh. Uryuu hums and lightly traces along some of the dark, swirling lines of Ichigo's tattoos.

"I've never seen anyone with so many before. You must have an amazing tolerance for pain," Uryuu tilts his face up to praise. He kisses a black curl climbing towards the base of Ichigo's neck, then laps at it with the tip of his tongue. "Tattoos have always fascinated me but I'm forbidden from getting them. Are they a symbol of strength and status in your culture?"

"Depends who you ask. Mostly I just think they look cool," snickers Ichigo, squirming when Uryuu finds a ticklish spot. "My friend Renji has a lot more, believe me. I think he has an obsession."

"Hm, maybe I should meet this 'Renji' person..."

Ichigo kisses the teasing smirk right off the man's face. This time Uryuu matches his energy and then some, pulling Ichigo closer by the loosening knot on his pants. He pushes at the shirt still clinging to Uryuu's arms and fits his palms to the revealed planes of his back. Bodies fitting nicely together, Ichigo groans into the kiss and tightens his hold. The pressure elicits a sharp hiss from Uryuu that can't be mistaken for enjoyment.

"What's wrong?" he draws back to ask, "Did I hurt you?"

"It's nothing, just..."

"Just what?" When Uryuu doesn't immediately answer, he swivels behind the man to see for himself. Shadows blotch at intervals from shoulder blade to hip, varying in size and intensity. Ichigo grazes light fingertips over one and frowns when Uryuu shirks from the touch. "Who did this to you?"

"Ignore it, Ichigo. It's not important."

"Of course it's important: look at you." Uryuu turns soft eyes on him over his shoulder and Ichigo is struck by how stunning he is all over again, painted in shadows, candlelight, and a hint of melancholy. "Look at you."

Sighing in resignation when Uryuu remains silent, he decides to let it go for now. He doesn't exactly know the man well enough to carry out vengeance against his enemies. Yet. Instead, Ichigo sinks to a knee and brushes the gentlest kiss to his hip, the arc of his spine, a shoulder blade, the inner bend of his elbow. Uryuu slides his arm from the loose hold to guide Ichigo's face towards him. He's smiling.

"You know what would make me feel better, Ichigo?"

"I think I can take a guess."

He spots the bottle of oil and snatches it up as he directs Uryuu to sit on the bed. With movements more careful than he thought himself capable, Ichigo spreads the warming stuff over smooth skin. He doesn't like the look of those purpling smudges marring an otherwise ivory canvass, but he _loves_ the sounds Uryuu makes as he smothers them. Once he covers what he can access, Ichigo glances up to ask a silent question at the hemline. Uryuu answers by leaning back on his elbows to lift his hips.

The last layer comes off and Ichigo can't resist the impulse to rush right in. This time Uryuu isn't complaining. His fingers push into orange hair, rubbing in traces of that spicy oil and encouraging a succession of happy hums from Ichigo around his work. Since he has done this a couple of times in the past—and was told he's rather good—it doesn't take long for Uryuu to pull him away from the task, lest they end things too quickly. Ichigo kisses a line up his belly and pauses to lavish attention on the pink points of his chest.

Uryuu drags him up into a deep kiss and attacks the tie of his pants, impressively tugging it loose one-handed. Once he has Ichigo naked at last, Uryuu breaks the feverish kiss to leave him gasping, only to roughly reverse their positions on the bed. He smoothes more of the oil over Ichigo's skin, smiling when his hands find Uryuu's rear in a very forward suggestion.

"You've done this before?"

"I won't hurt you," Ichigo assures him.

"Not even if I ask nicely?"

Leaving Ichigo to gape over that question, he gets up to retrieve a different kind of oil, this one more suited to their intended purpose. When he settles back into Ichigo's lap, he attacks Uryuu's neck and grips powerful thighs to keep him in place. He hears the squeak of a cork tugged free and feels the flex of Uryuu's long torso as he reaches behind himself. The idea of what they will soon be lucky enough to do shifts Ichigo's heart into high gear. Pressing his lips against Uryuu's pulse point proves he's just as excited. His low moans vibrate across Ichigo's tongue, tasting of promised pleasure. Ichigo reaches downward on a whim and Uryuu's motions falter. His grasp is gentle and light, but Uryuu is already close. He drops his forehead to Ichigo's chest and struggles to speak.

"I-Ichigo, if you k...keep doing that, I'll—"

"Well, I can't let you have all the fun," he murmurs back with a teasing nip to his ear, "Although I can't say I wasn't enjoying the show."

"Partic'pation," Uryuu slurs, his natural accent slipping through for the first time, "Is invited."

Given the green light, Ichigo takes the vial he is offered and spills some of its contents onto his palm before leaning in close to use them. It's Uryuu's turn to torture him while he works, but Ichigo doesn't mind one bit. His chin is kissed, earlobes are nibbled, back is massaged, and he is kept at attention as he struggles to stay focused. Right up until the pad of a fingertip brushes over something that has Uryuu tensing and muffling a shout against the swell of Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo leans back to make sure it was the right kind of shout and melts at what he sees: Uryuu blinking in a surprised daze and panting through an open mouth.

"Did you just—?"

"Almost," he huffs, swallowing. "Don't do that again...at least not right away."

"If you say so."

Without warning, Uryuu pushes his hands away and shoves him back against the pile of embroidered pillows. He shifts swiftly forward and then rocks slowly back. Uryuu's eyes slide closed as his lips part on a loud groan. The last thought Ichigo has before all brain functions temporarily cease is that he _really_ has to memorize such a wonderful spot that could cause this kind of behavior with one press. Just as Ichigo's mind goes dark, Uryuu's seems to light right up.

"Aaah, I knew it," he begins in a low, tight voice as he starts up a steady pace. "I knew just by looking at you that you'd be amazing at this. Something in the way your carry yourself, Ichigo, the way you move. You're positively _saturated_ with self-confidence. And your eyes..."

"What about 'em?" Ichigo distractedly breathes after a short moan. Part of him is genuinely interested in the topic but the majority is more fascinated by the sensations, the sounds, the sights Uryuu is creating for him. "They're average. You're the one with— _Unh, yeah_ —gemstones for eyes."

"Oh, no. No, you're wrong there." Bending forward in a way that has Ichigo marveling at his flexibility, Uryuu kisses him hard before explaining. "It's not the color that makes you stand out."

Warm hands frame Ichigo's face and he opens eyes he didn't mean to close, meeting Uryuu's firm gaze. "Then what?"

"When you looked at me, I didn't just see a bored, dirty young man, Ichigo. I saw someone with the spirit of a warrior." As though gaining energy from the memory, Uryuu begins to move faster and they both lose breath with the transition. "Not...not merely an amoral sword-swinging idiot, but a...a _champion_."

"What? I'm just a merch—"

Pushing upright for more leverage, Uryuu puts his athletic physique to good use and snaps his hips with a purpose. All Ichigo can do for a few moments is hold on for dear life. His body works to match the man's rhythmic movements on its own, and Ichigo mourns the encroaching end even as he revels in it. The half-notion that he should perhaps try for that special button again flashes past but he doesn't have the ability to attempt it. Fortunately, Uryuu doesn't need his help to do just that.

Ichigo watches it crash over his face when he finds it. Uryuu tightens around him and Ichigo jerks upright because he has to kiss him right this instant. And then it's not once but _every_ single thrust. Uryuu's calm poise has been slipping all along, but now he is utterly unraveling in Ichigo's arms. Eyes locked and mouths open, they endure the building pressure before they suddenly burst, and then fall together amid silks and satins. Ichigo's lungs struggle as he recovers from the rush of something more than simple satiety.

" _That_ ," Uryuu rasps once he regains enough breath to talk, "That was well worth the effort of seduction."

Laughing, Ichigo turns his head to look at the smirking man. "Good thing you don't give up easily."

Uryuu's only reply comes in the form of a kiss. And Ichigo knows they are far from finished with each other for the night.


	2. A Proposition

**II – A Proposition**

* * *

The soft sounds of shifting fabric greet Uryuu as he wakes. He slowly sits up and looks over at his bed-partner, still lightly snoring and gently oblivious. The long curve of Ichigo's back half-covered by a slipping sheet steals his focus for a handful of seconds. Fresh memories come rushing back at the sight.

Uryuu hadn't meant to sleep here after their tryst but there was no way he could have mustered the strength to walk all the way back into town. They barely got any sleep anyway, unable to keep their hands off each other until they were too exhausted to continue. It's been a very long time since he had such a pleasant night with anyone, especially considering the rarity of these types of excursions to begin with. It isn't often he can break away and explore like this, much less meet handsome and interesting young travelers like Ichigo.

He takes a moment to watch the decorative fabrics above swaying in the desert's perpetual breeze as he ponders how he can return home without detection. Weak sun rays peeking into the tent through narrow slats tell him it's past dawn, which means everyone will already be up and moving around. There is a small chance he could walk straight in and claim to have gone out for an early walk. Knowing his father, however, Uryuu doubts he would get far on that lie. Sighing as he moves to get dressed, he resigns himself to an awkward morning.

It's more than worth it.

The temptation to leave some kind of note for Ichigo before he goes is strong. Uryuu is both fluent and literate in the man's language and he even has parchment and ink nearby. Yet, the last thing he wants is to endanger him by encouraging a future meeting. Regardless of what Uryuu wants, he simply doesn't have the luxury of relationships. It's bad enough he occasionally breaks curfew to seek forbidden comforts with strangers who can't know about Uryuu's true identity as the crown prince and sole royal heir of this country. He puts himself and them at risk each time. But the only alternative is an unbearable life of solitude and isolation.

No, it's better to sever the link cleanly, he decides while watching Ichigo's steady breaths. Uryuu couldn't bear the thought of causing this man harm. And Ichigo seems the type to resist letting something like this pass him by, if Uryuu isn't completely delusional about their connection. Taking one last, long look to memorize his face, Uryuu pulls his cloak closer about himself and steps away from the bed.

"Goodbye, Ichigo," he sighs before turning to slip out of the tent.

* * *

"Where have you been?"

"I went for an early walk."

The stern stare of his venerable father pierces right through the flimsy facade he hastily constructed to fool him. Ryuuken knows better than to take anything Uryuu tells him at face value, but he also knows it's useless to argue when his son decides to be stubborn. His mouth twitches in a disapproving gesture but he doesn't test the assertion. Instead, he turns to his royal advisor, Kurotsuchi, and resumes rattling off details about the day's events and tasks. Kurotsuchi and Uryuu exchange a subtle glower, as usual, before parting ways.

"Good morning, Prince Ishida," demurely greets Nemu before following after the two men.

"Good morning," he returns amiably enough.

While he detests her father for too many reasons to list, Uryuu has never had an issue with her. If anything, he feels he can relate to Nemu. Tethered to a strict personality with little free will of her own, she must follow Kurotsuchi unquestioningly on penalty of disgrace. Although he knows Ryuuken is nowhere near as monstrous as his 'trusted' advisor, Uryuu feels just as restricted by his own station and duty.

It certainly doesn't help that Kurotsuchi has been trying to get Uryuu betrothed to Nemu for the past three years. Anything to make his daughter royalty, and himself by proxy. Uryuu is lucky he was born a prince with options instead of a princess without. As it is, he can't exactly explain to them why she isn't his _type_ , considering their society still frowns upon his preferences. Never mind that other nearby countries have already begun to accept that sort of thing. A small part of Uryuu keeps hoping Ryuuken will figure it out and change the laws for the benefit of his son, as well as a great many of his subjects.

Frowning at his circular, unproductive thoughts, he concentrates on navigating the labyrinthine halls and stairways to the highest tower in the palace. His grandfather is carrying a stack of tomes across the room when Uryuu enters the master library. He immediately goes to take the heavy books from the elderly man and helps re-shelve them in their proper slots.

"Thank you, Uryuu," Souken warmly beams as the last one is pushed into place. "Good to see you making yourself useful for a change."

They share affectionate laughter at the inside joke. Since he can remember, Uryuu has helped his grandfather with his record-keeping work in every capacity imaginable. He learned everything he knows from this wizened scribe, including his well-established moral compass.

"Good morning, Master."

"Good morning to you, my boy." With a gently-guiding hand, he leads Uryuu to a small connecting room to sit at a stone table set with a tray of food and drink. "Why do I get the feeling you haven't bothered to eat anything today?"

"I intended to, I just—"

"Yes, and how many meals have you missed despite 'intending' to have them, hm?" Chastened, Uryuu returns his kindly smile and obediently picks up a piece of dried fish. Souken carefully sinks onto the perch beside him and sips from a red clay cup. "Have you finished those books I lent you yet?"

"Almost. I'm halfway through the fourth one. I would have finished it last night but I was...caught up in other duties." Souken nods, sensing a half-truth but letting it lie. "Ryuuken keeps throwing me into the training ring like he expects me to lead the charge into our next battle."

That much is pure honesty. He has been on a fierce training regiment since he was old enough to walk. To say that he is used to it is a major understatement, but lately he has been ordered to the ring to the point that he rarely makes it to his bedchamber without a fog of exhaustion dragging him down. Sometimes two or three sessions a day! When asked, Ryuuken tells him it is time to take improving his skills seriously. As if Uryuu has just been playing around all this time. Isn't it enough that he can easily beat even the most veteran of royal guards?

"Please address your father, the sultan, with proper respect," Souken murmurs more out of habit than intent. It's his one instruction that Uryuu never follows. "You know he only pushes you, as I do, because he wants the best for you. One day you will be grateful for our discipline, Uryuu."

"I understand that; I am grateful. But forcing me to collect deep bruises and endure strained muscles isn't going to prepare me any better just because it hurts more. Sometimes I believe he just wants to watch me struggle."

Silently disapproving though well-versed in Uryuu's father-issues, Souken shakes his head slightly. He waves a hand to encourage Uryuu to eat more. They don't leave the table until the man is satisfied his grandson won't die of malnutrition just yet. Then Souken, who doubles as a palace healer when necessary, offers to help Uryuu with some salves for his worse abrasions and cuts. He almost makes the mistake of accepting until he considers what evidence of his time with Ichigo may linger. A quick bath upon his return could only go so far erasing some of the things they did. Instead, he requests a tiny tin of the tincture for later while they resume straightening up the library.

"Have you visited your mother lately?"

"No."

"And why not?"

Uryuu swipes dust from a cover and doesn't answer. Souken knows very well why he can't seem to make the trek to her chambers more than once a week. Kanae has been bedridden and ailing for nearly half a year now. Every healer, sorcerer, and sage says the same thing: she is dying and cannot be cured. Helplessly watching her waste away is the hardest thing Uryuu has ever had to do and he's not sure he can take much more. Sometimes it takes all he has not to fall down in sorrow at the thought of her bright smile dimming further each day.

"I-I'll visit her soon," he promises before deliberately changing the subject. "I wanted to ask you something, Master."

"What is it?"

"What do you know of the lands beyond the desert to the East?"

"Not as much as I'd like to, I'm afraid. I was fortunate enough to visit when I was a boy, but much has changed since those times. Why the sudden curiosity?"

He shakes his head and looks away, shocked that his mind keeps dragging him back to thoughts of his newest acquaintance. There was something different about this man, Uryuu thinks not for the first time this morning. Something that leaves his chest aching at the thought of never seeing him again. At the same time, he rebukes himself for acting like a teenager and thinking of romance when he can never have it. Uryuu knows he will have to take a queen one day, if only to produce an heir.

"No particular reason. I heard someone mention it and wondered what it might be like. How it might differ from here."

"Oh, it is very different, to be sure. For example, they don't have a sultan who rules over all. No, a long time ago they decided that one person should not hold so much power, not even one chosen by God himself." Shuffling along a shelf, he skims the cracked spines until he finds a specific title. Souken tugs it out of line and opens its musty pages as Uryuu scoots closer to see. "This is a depiction of their last king. It was he who swayed the people to the new order, suggesting a counsel of the wisest and most just to be leaders and law-makers."

Peering at the aged parchment, Uryuu thinks he can make out the man's features fairly well. He narrows his eyes as something familiar about the visage tugs at him. His grandfather flips past blocks of foreign text to a landscape sketch of the country's geography. Uryuu's small gasp punctures the silence. Rather than the barren, dry sands of his home, Ichigo's lands are lush and dotted with tall trees. Wide rivers feed these diverse forests and dump excess into vast lakes.

Of course he has read this book before, too. None of this is much of a surprise, but the emotions that rush him while picturing Ichigo living there are. He imagines visiting. Wonders what it would look like standing atop the roots of one of those massive trees and gazing up to the sky. Jumping into one of those still reservoirs, fully-immersed in cool freshwater. Experiencing the calm indulgence of a light rainstorm on warm skin. Listening to the sweet chorus of a legion of leaves' lullaby.

Being the sole progeny of an entire nation's only monarch, Uryuu has been literally sheltered most of his life, hence his pale complexion. Traveling was always considered unnecessary. Now he wishes more than anything that he could have been born anyone else. To have that freedom to roam and explore, to witness the myriad miracles of this world with whomever he chooses.

If not for his mother and grandfather, Uryuu would have fled long ago. He never wanted to be a prince, the last heir. Wealth and comfort are utterly negligible for someone like him and the last thing he wants is the responsibility to rule hundreds of thousands of citizens. While he has always been fond of the idea of being in a position to help others, watching Ryuuken's daily activities showed him that ruling is anything but altruistic benevolence.

 _You can't govern a country with your heart, Uryuu. Keeping the peace requires a level head and an iron fist_ , as Ryuuken always likes to tell him.

A sharp knock on the heavy double-doors snaps him back to the moment. Uryuu straightens as a fatigued detachment of breathless guards accompanying a messenger file into the large room from the massive stairwell leading to it. His grandfather slips the tome back amongst its fellows and respectfully faces the harried group.

"The sultan requests your presence, Prince Ishida," states the envoy a bit too loudly, "For a late morning audience in the royal reception hall."

"Understood," he confirms. "I will join him shortly."

"The sultan requested that we accompany you to the hall for your safety, as we have foreign guests in the palace."

"Are you new? I can handle any potential threats on my own—"

"Go ahead," Souken interrupts his disciple's ire. "I will manage organizing the rest of these books without you somehow."

Giving the man a long look, Uryuu nods. It's his grandfather's way of suggesting he pick his battles more carefully. Flaring up every time Ryuuken exerts the smallest measure of control over him would leave Uryuu a defeated mess before he could rethink his haste. Masking a resigned sigh, he mentally shakes it off and sweeps from the room, his father's guards hot on his heels.

* * *

Ryuuken's retinue surround the man when Uryuu enters the great hall. They chatter excitedly, stepping in and out of sunrays streaming in from rows of arched windows lining parallel walls, dappling and illuminating the vivid colors of their formal attire. A host of sturdy tables and chairs stands in disarray from the day's activities. The stench of warm, weak wine wafts from the tankards and wineskins dotting nearly every surface. Uryuu barely manages not to wrinkle his nose in disgust of obvious revelry so early in the day.

Passing a casual collection of palace servants and more guards, Uryuu acknowledges them with a nod as they immediately fall silent on his advance. There's a reason his few immediate family members are the only ties binding him here. No one else will approach him for fear of upsetting him and drawing the wrath of the empire. He often hears them talking behind his back about the frigid prodigy who might one day rule them. They're used to Ryuuken but Uryuu is a wild card, far too mysterious, strong, and clever to write off as harmless in spite of his best efforts to allay their fears. It has turned Uryuu cold and cynical regardless of his natural compassion and empathy.

He approaches the sultan and takes his usual seat to the right. Nemu stands ever-ready behind Kurotsuchi, who sips from his chalice and eyes him disdainfully from Ryuuken's left. Uryuu's eyes flick over the crowd spread out beyond the royal table's dais in mild curiosity. While it isn't unusual for the banquet hall to be busy day-to-day, it's rare to have it so full without a celebration or special event.

Uryuu gets Nemu's attention and communicates quietly when she ducks down to listen.

"What's going on today?"

"It's the annual bazaar rankings," she whispers back. "The honorable sultan has announced a competition open to all merchants in the effort to establish trade for more exotic wares."

"I thought that normally takes place in the city streets."

"It does, but there has been a high occurrence of sandstorms lately so it was moved here."

Thanking her with a polite smile, Uryuu turns his attention back on the milling foreigners. That explains why Ichigo and his entourage arrived last night despite the impending bad weather. Before he realizes what he's doing, Uryuu is searching for the telltale shade of bright hair. He doesn't know what he will do if he finds the man. Make small talk, perhaps? Uryuu desperately hopes he has the discretion not to mention their meeting.

He doesn't have time to ponder that long, as his father soon stands to command everyone's silence and attention. Uryuu half-listens to the sultan's brief opening speech as his eyes continue to roam. A procession of presentations begins, encouraging businessmen-to-be to vie for the coveted Sultan's Approval, granting access to commerce in this country. A limited pile of official seals of permission sit stacked in tight scrolls before the sultan, ready to be dispensed at his whim.

A fleet of translators await prepared as contestants from far and wide bring everything from clothes, food, and furniture to more obscure items like texts, statuettes, and animals. Impromptu fashion shows display some of the most audacious outfits Uryuu has ever seen. Some even bring forms of entertainment such as singers, playwrights, and dancers. It almost becomes more of a cultural exhibition to Uryuu than a contest. Against his better judgment, he's starting to enjoy himself.

Then the Kurosaki clan approaches the royal table. The man who must be Ichigo's bear of a father gazes solemnly at Ryuuken, unhesitatingly meeting those cold eyes so simultaneously like and unlike Uryuu's own. Based on this courage and the way he carries himself, he instantly admires the man. Then he opens his wide mouth to spew forth a frivolous and overexcited greeting in a relatively fluent version of their language that pinches Uryuu's eyes in confusion. Have these two met before?

"Oh, it is so good to see you again, most powerful and handsome of sultans! It has been far too long since last I was fortunate enough to gaze upon one so beneficent and noteworthy," he prattles to the collective awe of the auditorium. "Now I have finally returned to once again throw myself at your sultanship's feet in modest greeting."

"If that's your idea of modest, I would hate to see audacity," snipes Ryuuken. He shows signs of neither affection nor surprise. "What have you brought this time? Not another martial arts demonstration, I hope."

"Haha, far from it, my good king! With the help of my son and trusted employees, we have built a magnificent enterprise over these many years of great toil and wonder. Peer at my assortment of delights!"

For the first time all afternoon, Ryuuken stands from his seat and steps down from the dais to have a closer look at the offerings. Curious what could make him bother to move, Uryuu follows after a cautious pause. An impressive array of spices, herbs, tonics, fabrics, dyes, and even medicines rests nestled in carefully-packed crates toted by aforementioned employees. Ryuuken picks a couple of containers up to inspect them closer, making a show of deliberating, but Uryuu knows he will permit sales. Few local citizens have the knowledge and technical skill to create these types of supplies.

"I've heard of these merchants among the villagers," Uryuu vouches as promised, just in case. "Their products are of outstanding quality. Unmatched among comparable items here."

Another voice asserts itself just as his father turns with a suspicious stare to ask, "How have you heard this?"

"Move, Ikkaku—I said _move_ ," grumbles Ichigo in his own tongue while shoving his friend aside for a better line of sight. He locks eyes with Uryuu—who freezes from the power of the sudden connection—and points as he says something that has every last attendee falling utterly mute with shock: "URYUU!?"

His mouth falls open as blood drains from his face. Panic, white-hot, burns across his skin from one heart beat to the next. Uryuu doesn't have time for thought or strategy. He sprints past Ryuuken to jump in front of Ichigo right before a pair of scimitars descends, intent on claiming the man's head. The soldiers swinging their weapons can't stop in time, and Uryuu must draw his own twin daggers to parry the blows at each side of them. Metal strikes metal so forcefully that blue sparks chip off the razor-sharp edges in a grating squeal. With a furious shove, he dislodges both attackers and sends them stumbling to the ground.

"Stand down!" he shouts at the six others running towards them, keeping his weapons drawn. The baffled guards halt but cast anxious, uncertain glances at their monarch, who is ignoring them all in lieu of watching Uryuu with a calculating expression. "I said stand down! This man is not to be harmed."

"Uryuu, what's going—"

"Do _not_ call me that," he turns his head to snap in Ichigo's language over his shoulder. "If you wish to live, don't speak my name again."

"What is the meaning of this?" Ryuuken demands, waving a hand to dismiss the guards yet looming. "Who is this boy and why does he speak your name so casually?"

Before Uryuu can attempt an answer, Ichigo's father steps up. "Please forgive my son, Merciful Sultan; he is young and foolish and often gets into more trouble than he can handle. Perhaps we could discuss this at length with more privacy?"

"Dad...?" Ichigo isn't understanding any of their words, but he can clearly sense the tension he has caused. "What did I do wrong?"

"Call it a personal favor," Isshin lowers his voice to request, "For old time's sake."

A terrifying pause precedes Ryuuken's terse answer, addressed to his waiting guards. "Escort them and the prince to my conference quarters immediately. I will be there shortly."

Uryuu's sigh of relief is drowned out by the resumption of agitated chatter around them. As they are shepherded through the halls, Ichigo keeps shooting him hurt and perplexed looks that have Uryuu's stomach flipping over itself in turmoil. As soon as they reach their destination, he orders the soldiers to wait outside and is grateful when they actually heed him. Ichigo's father starts snooping around the torch-lit room commenting on the decor while Ichigo himself continues to stare Uryuu down in progressively chillier silence.

"Uryuu, what—"

"Do you have a death-wish?" he hisses so fast and vicious it startles them both. " _Never_ call me that again or you. Will. Die."

Ichigo's frown deepens into something sorrowful and Uryuu feels it even past the residual horror of nearly causing the man's death. He glances at Isshin goofing off on the other side of the large room inspecting a vase. How much is safe to speak of in front of him? Uryuu doesn't know what may or may not have been said about their involvement and he can't foresee all the possible repercussions.

But he must say something.

"You asked me last night who I was," Uryuu steps closer to murmur in the hopes of avoiding eavesdropping. It has the uncomfortable side-effect of enhanced intimacy and flashes of sense-memories from last night assail him. "I couldn't tell you. I wanted to but I couldn't because...I'm the prince."

"You're _what_!?"

"Calling royalty by their given names is one of the highest offenses, punishable by death, and you being foreigners visiting here on a day where the guards are on edge in the first place—of course they would overreact," Uryuu starts to ramble while he still has the courage to explain what must sound ridiculous to an outsider. "No one calls me by name except close family and even then mostly in privacy. I should never have told it to you. I never imagined I would see you again, especially so soon after—"

"After what?" Sweeping regally through the door, Ryuuken walks right up to them and glares at Uryuu. Surprisingly, he is considerate enough to use their visitors' language. "How did you two meet and what, exactly, is the nature of your acquaintance?"

"We met in the outer encampment yesterday."

"What were you doing there?"

"Talking with our esteemed guests."

"More like avoiding your duties."

"When my 'duties' involve getting beaten bloody for no good reason, they deserve to be avoided."

"So you're the reason he's all bruised up?" Ichigo interjects, much to Uryuu's alarm. "What kind of father are you?"

Ryuuken doesn't respond or ask any more questions, but his expression says it all. Recent suspicions irrevocably confirmed by Ichigo's innocent question, he looks upon his son with righteous judgment. In a flurry of dark, auspicious words spoken in their native tongue, Ryuuken chastises him as only he can.

"Your sinful nightly excursions are at an end, Uryuu. How many times have I caught you skulking in smelling like some musky street rat? You have left me no choice but to make you a prisoner in your own home. From now on you will stay within palace walls at all times, no exceptions. If you so much as _think_ about sneaking out—"

"Um...excuse me, O Glorious Sultan." Both of their heads snap sideways to stare at Ichigo's father, rallying the audacity he withheld earlier. "I hate to interrupt but...What are you going to do with Ichigo?" Said son jerks at his name standing out in a sea of indecipherable sounds. The anxious wrinkles gathering on Uryuu's forehead do little to relax him. Ryuuken hardly spares the young man a glance and Isshin switches back to his language to say, "Might I submit a suggestion?"

"What is it?"

"Make him your son's personal servant."

" _What_?" Uryuu and Ichigo bark in tandem.

"What use have I of a common merchant's son?" scoffs Ryuuken.

"Ichigo is a bright, talented kid. Good with a sword and quick in a fight. He may not be the most refined guy around, but I'm sure your son could teach him a few social graces. In the meantime, he could be the prince's bodyguard. Keep him out of trouble and make sure he colors within the lines. Let him make amends for his offense and I'll be back to pick him up in one season."

"Dad, what the hell are you talking about? You can't just indenture me to some royal snobs over a misunderstanding."

"Be a good boy and do as I say," Isshin grins beatifically at his son, though there is a hidden menace underneath.

"This proposition is insane," Uryuu joins in, appealing to Ryuuken's sense of reason. "We don't have the resources to accept something like this. He could be an assassin in disguise—"

"If he were planning to assassinate you, he would have done so last night, would he not?" the sultan pointedly asks. "Perhaps you could benefit from having a _pet_ to care for. The responsibility of thinking of someone else for a change might be good for you. If nothing else, it would keep you from running wild." In an archaic dialect so even Isshin can't understand, he adds, "No need to hunt for vermin if it's already lying in your bed."

Rage flares up at the rude insinuations about both Uryuu's choices and Ichigo's character.

"I refuse!"

"It's not your decision," Ryuuken harshly states. "The boy will be tethered to you until his father returns for him."

"Don't I get a say in this?" cries Ichigo, witnessing his fate being sealed. "Dad, what about Orihime? The date was set—"

"Your betrothal to the baker's daughter was strictly a business venture, Ichigo. I know you don't care for her beyond friendship. The Inoue family will understand a postponement is necessary once I explain."

"You're _engaged!_?" Uryuu can't help shouting.

"Hey, I'm not the only one who wasn't entirely truthful," Ichigo flippantly returns.

Glowering at their spat, Ryuuken has had enough of their squabbling and opens the doors to instruct his guards in making arrangements. Then he and Ichigo's father walk out into the vacated hall to have a chat of their own. Uryuu feels the weight of Ichigo's anger radiating out in hot waves like a sun-heated stone. He's almost afraid to face him, but he does after a bracing breath. They watch each other for several moments before Uryuu eventually speaks in a hushed tone.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Doesn't change the fact that you seduced me, slept with me, and then enslaved me." Uryuu winces and averts his gaze in remorse. "We don't even have slaves in my country anymore. How am I supposed to act in this situation?"

"You're not a slave, Ichigo, you're—"

"Don't call me that."

Biting into his bottom lip, Uryuu nods. "You will never be a slave, Kurosaki. Not like that. Servitude is different here, it's—more like having a hired hand. You'll have everything you need: food, clothes, shelter. We'll be expected to train and study together so you can learn quite a lot. Besides, it's only temporary."

"Spin it however you want, _Prince_ , I'm your fucking dog now." Shaking his head in disgust, Kurosaki slams a fist against the door with an aggressive growl. Uryuu starts when he swiftly whirls back around to face him. "I don't even know what else to call you. Do you people even have a family name?"

"Ishida."

"Wish I could say it was nice to formally meet you, Prince Ishida."

He opens his mouth to muster some response to that past the welling guilt threatening to choke him, but the royal guards choose that moment to burst into the room and remand Kurosaki into their custody. When asked of their intentions, all they will tell him is that his new servant will be thoroughly prepared and returned to him by dinner time. The last glimpse he catches of Kurosaki is his disconcerted, resentful brown eyes cutting into Uryuu.


	3. Prince's Dog

**III –** Prince's Dog

* * *

The insistent grip on his upper arms smothers the lingering sadness at Uryuu's—no, Prince Ishida's—betrayal. Getting pissed off is always the best way to dig yourself out of depression, Ichigo figures. He shakes the soldiers' hold and returns their irritated scowls twofold. Before they turn the corner from the conference hall, his father catches up to them requesting a last moment with him. The guards grumble and scoff but allow it.

"Be good, my boy," Isshin claps hands to his shoulders to say. "Learn all you can here and it will serve you well in future ventures. When I return, I'll have an exam for you to test your new knowledge and skills."

"Get stung by a scorpion, Old Man!"

Smirking despite Ichigo's outburst, he counters, "Life rarely goes by our plans, Ichigo. We must do our best to wrangle what little happiness we can from its peaks and valleys along the road."

"Don't act like you're suddenly so wise and worldly!" Whacking the man's arms aside, he takes an antagonistic step closer and narrows his eyes. "I get that you were trying to save my life but you don't have to act so fucking gleeful about it. It's not your livelihood at stake, is it?"

"So, you didn't want the opportunity to spend more time with that intriguing gentlemen you were softly calling by name and turning moony-eyes on?"

Even though Ichigo is fairly certain none of these soldiers speaks their language, he still freezes in shock at the taboo declaration. And since when did his father know that much about him? As if reading his thoughts, Isshin chuckles quietly like the gloating idiot he is.

"Not like this," is all Ichigo can mutter, unable to fully deny the claim. "If you think I'll ever forgive you for having a hand in my forced servitude—"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic! Like I said, it'll be over before you know it and you can go back to the original plan of making little red-haired babies with that cute Orihime of clan Inoue. Think of this as a last vacation before the real work begins."

Gesturing to the guards that their conversation is over, Isshin waves goodbye with a lop-sided smile that makes Ichigo frown harder. The burly, proud men start shoving at Ichigo to get moving and he snarls foul explicatives that they won't understand as he turns to leave his father behind.

This entire palace is so gigantic and complicated that Ichigo fails to memorize the routes despite best efforts. He swears these halls must move around when nobody is looking because all of this seems shuffled. Full minutes of walking and hundreds of stairs later, they arrive at what appears to be a bathhouse. The soldiers are more than pleased to pass Ichigo off to a trio of older women cleaning and stocking the cluster of rooms.

He has never seen anything like it. Depressions in the stone filled with clear water, warmed when needed by boiling additions, take up much of the floor space. Stacks of clean towels, cloths, and robes line neat shelves carved out of the walls. There are narrow windows lining the upper fifth of two sides of the main room, allowing the late afternoon light in to reflect from meticulously-placed mirrors. Pale, gauzy fabrics drape from certain parts of the ceiling for limited privacy. Ichigo smells the soaps and shampoos before he spots them on a central dais between two pools.

One of the women interrupts his inspection by handing him a loose bundle of fabric with a wary expression. He tries to give her a reassuring smile to put her at ease, but she quickly turns away. Another attendant says something to him and gestures to one of the bathing holes being warmed by the third woman. Nodding in comprehension, he makes his way over to it and sets down the bundle. No matter the country, culture, or language, this is one of several universal practices.

Disrobing as soon as the remaining servants exit the room, he sinks into the steamy, eucalyptus-scented water and shuts his eyes tightly. It almost feels like all of this is a really strange dream that he will be able to wake from any moment. Not only meeting Ishida last night, but being roped into all of this today? It's madness. Too much, too fast, too strange. There has to be a way out of it. Maybe tomorrow he can request an audience with the sultan and barter for his freedom. Ichigo knows he doesn't own anything valuable—all he has are the clothes and weapons he came in with—but there is always a chance. Maybe he can owe a favor or something.

A few minutes later, the shuffling pitter-patter of slippered feet draws his attention. The women have returned carrying soaps, oils, and scrubbing cloths.

"Oh, no no no," he starts to wave his hands and shake his head, guessing their intention. "I don't need any help. I've got this."

The older one he smiled at before beams back at him now and squats behind him to squirt a dollop of cleanser into his hair. While he is trying to push her hands away, the younger two sink into the water with him. Right about the time he realizes they are nearly naked with white cloth narrowly wrapped around hips and chest, Ichigo desperately wishes he could remember their word for 'no'. Fortunately, they keep it strictly professional. Apparently their job is to help automate the bathing process because they roughly scrub at his sand-seared skin until it is pink and smooth once more.

They treat his squirming as a challenge, rather than the deterrent it is meant to be.

Listening to the cadence of their idle talk as they perform a job they must have done thousands of times by now, Ichigo resigns himself to it and lets his muscles unknot themselves to relax. He is careful not to look at their bodies, which mostly involves staring up towards the ceiling. Not that they're in any danger from him, obviously, but still. There's no way this utter disregard for modesty would ever be common practice in his country.

If this is a sample of what he should expect, Ichigo isn't sure he can make it through a whole season!

One of the women giggles and comments to the others. He can only imagine what they're talking about, but he doubts it's anything good. Jibes like, 'we have to clean this filthy man up for the prince,' or, 'look at all these scars,' or maybe, 'what a weird hair color'. Or worse. A wicked flush creeps over his cheeks, inciting more laughter. The eldest of the three croons something soothing and pats his cheek. It only makes him blush harder.

Finally, they direct him to stand for a final rinse and then they take fluffy, absorbent towels to dry him faster than he can turn around. Once that is done, they very efficiently spread a light oil over his raw skin to soothe the burn of exfoliation. It absorbs quickly into his skin with a soothing scent. First the prince and now these ladies? This country's people must really love their oils!

By the time they unfurl a stately outfit to drape and cinch around him, Ichigo is feeling like a shiny new lamp, if a bit violated. The clothes are such a fine silk that he must wonder how they aren't translucent; he's too used to rough linens and sturdy leathers. How did they find ones to fit him so well? Ichigo even likes the flashy color patterns.

The ladies give him one last round of smiles before leaving the room just as a spiky-haired man with numeric facial tattoos strides in to make a bee-line for him. Ichigo tenses but the man raises a hand in harmless greeting. The stranger starts going on about something as he sets down a small box to dig through. Before Ichigo can indicate he doesn't understand, the man is pulling out several thick golden chains and reaching for one of Ichigo's arms.

A second of panic and confusion precedes the man showing him on his own wrist that it is meant to be jewelry. Grudgingly, Ichigo allows their application around his neck, both wrists, and even his ankles. He realizes too late that these pieces are more permanent than he'd prefer: a hand-held metal prizing tool warps the clasps so that they can't be easily removed. Tugging at the piece snugly-fitted at the base of his throat, Ichigo gestures that he wants it off. The man shakes his head and shrugs.

Ichigo watches him pack up his toolkit and calmly stroll back out like he didn't just apply fancy, symbolic manacles to the newest royal slave. The bright golden links seem to burn shamefully against his skin. He strongly considers ripping them off but they cling so that he can't quite get two fingers firmly between the chain and his body. The knives in his pile of clothing are a very bad idea, though tempting. That's when he notices that those, too, have been taken away from him.

He has nothing left of his origins but himself.

As if all this wasn't more than enough to set him shrieking, a young woman with soft green eyes and flawlessly-fixed black hair walks in through the archway next. She addresses him in his native tongue, though a little imperfectly, and introduces herself as Nemu. Running into someone who understands his words is only a small relief.

"It is good to meet you. Prince Ishida sent me to collect you."

"Too busy to come himself?" he asks with arms folded over his chest.

"No, he tried to follow you immediately but the sultan sent him elsewhere. The prince asked me to come in his stead. If you will follow me, I will show you to your chambers after providing a tour of the palace. This way."

Irritated but left with few options, Ichigo follows her. Nemu leads him back through the maze, commenting on various key rooms and hallways that he should remember, but he knows it's useless. It will take him eons to learn all the routes and it only emphasizes how out-of-place he feels here. Ichigo has been here all of two days and he's already feeling homesick!

Their path is mostly vacant. Ichigo guesses everyone is still in the banquet hall vying to win the contest. He wonders if he could swing by and say goodbye to his friends before they all leave. Then he decides it would be best not to; Ichigo isn't in the mood to explain why he's dressed so differently now or why he was almost beheaded earlier for shouting a name. Instead, he focuses on memorizing as many landmarks as possible. Trouble is every hall resembles the last and every room is completely different.

Suddenly Ichigo notices he has been unconsciously tugging at his newest accessories.

"Hey, Nemu," he gets her attention so they can stop for a moment. She turns to face him attentively. "What are these for?"

Seeing the shining chains displayed on his wrists, she nods. "Those serve to label you as a temporary servant of the royal family."

"I figured as much. But why do only I have to wear them? I haven't seen these on anyone else in the palace."

"That's because we have various ways of marking and adorning based on status and affiliation. Sometimes with jewelry or clothing, often with tattoos, and occasionally with piercings. Yours are of gold to signify a temporary contract of the highest esteem."

"Ah-ha! So you do practice slavery!"

"Not exactly..." Nemu pauses to produce the correct terminology for a tricky concept. "Being linked to someone in our land is a symbol of will rather than force. Almost like marriage in your country, if I understand it properly."

"Are you saying Ury—Prince Ishida and I are now considered some kind of married couple in your culture?"

"Well, it is much more complicated than that, but essentially: yes. Until such time as the bond is dissolved you will be expected to attend the prince in whatever capacities he deems fit. You will also be under his protection in the case of any potential mishaps. He will be held responsible for your actions and expected to execute discipline when necessary."

"Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"What is this word, 'fucking'? I am unfamiliar with its meaning."

Despite the severity of their discussion, Ichigo cracks a smirk at seeing such a refined woman using profanity. He explains the term as delicately as he can and waves away her concern as she apologizes. More importantly, he wants to get back to this 'being disciplined' thing. As a man born to freedom, Ichigo can't tolerate the idea that someone else has the right to treat him however they want without consequences. Although he's fairly sure Ishida isn't the type to abuse that kind of power, it is not a pleasant concept.

"So you're saying if I do something 'wrong', the prince can smack me around and I can't do anything about it?"

"Again, that may be the accepted custom but I feel you are egregiously misunderstanding the true situation. To my knowledge, Prince Ishida has been encouraged to take servants in the past but he has always refused. He completes almost all of his own daily errands and even helps others with theirs when time allows. That is unprecedented among royalty!" Impassioned by her spirited monologue, Nemu's eyes attain a fervent shine even as her pale cheeks glow pink. It's the first show of real emotion he's seen from her so far. "Our prince will never harm you, never be unfair or refuse to listen. He will take care of you and make sure you are comfortable here. You should be grateful it was he you are bonded with, Ichigo of clan Kurosaki. You could not pick a gentler master in the entire land."

A long silence follows her words as they sink in. Everything she said seems to mesh with what little he knows of the enigmatic man, and Ichigo isn't as apprehensive about all this as he probably should be. But he can't get over the fact that he was practically manipulated into this situation against his wishes. It may not have been Ishida's intent to have a new toy shackled to him but that doesn't change the way Ichigo feels right now, trapped and floundering in a strange country.

"Yeah. Okay, I get it. Thanks, Nemu," he eventually relents, for now.

She offers a small smile before gesturing for them to continue the tour. Ichigo watches her stiff posture and wonders why the only thing she seems to care about is the prince. Maybe they're good friends...or past lovers. They look about the same age and they likely grew up together here, learning and working in close quarters. Not to mention she's very attractive in a stern kind of way. Plus, she's obviously highly intelligent like Ishida so they have that in common. Starting to feel like a melodramatic teenager again, Ichigo shakes his head and mentally dismisses those thoughts.

As Nemu leads him down an increasingly chilly and dark staircase, she tells him that the lower area they are heading for is usually off-limits to everyone in the palace except disciples of her father's 'organization'. Though the way she is describing it, sounds to Ichigo more like a fanatical cult. They pause in the middle of a central cloaca, a semi-circle radially branching off into five different directions. The stone down here is more of a cold grey than the warm white or sand-colored decor of the rest of the palace. Three tapered candles provide the only light in a bubble of black.

The whole place creeps Ichigo the hell out and he says as much.

"Master Kurotsuchi's beliefs prohibit ostentatious decorations and frivolous accessories," she explains with notable discomfort. "We also do not waste valuable resources providing more light and heat than strictly necessary. When we unburden our physical selves, we also clear the path for our spiritual selves."

"Minimalistic lifestyle, huh?" comments Ichigo as he swipes a finger across the grungy wall, "Yeah, I heard of some Mediterranean customs like that. Makes for some crazy-strong warriors. Ever heard of a place called Sparta?"

"Nemu! Who is this inept, foreign _fool_ who compares our sacred practices with the bumblings of barbarians?"

"Master Mayuri!"

A man thoroughly shrouded in purple robes marches out from the shadows and backhands Nemu so hard across the cheek that her head snaps sideways. Even though blood seeps from a fresh cut on her lip, she doesn't cry out or fall back. Ichigo feels a familiar righteous rage flare in his gut. He gets in the man's face, putting himself between Nemu and him.

"Hey man, what the hell is your problem? You can't just hit her like that!"

"No, please stay out of this!" She pushes him away from her father and immediately turns to the man to beg forgiveness on Ichigo's behalf. "Master Mayuri, this is Prince Ishida's new servant from clan Kurosaki across the desert. He is not yet aware of our ways."

"Of course I know he is 'not yet aware of our ways' if we're speaking his language instead of our own, idiot girl!" Again he slaps her and again Ichigo reacts before he thinks. This time he shoves the man back a few steps. Nemu throws herself at the man's feet. "What are you doing wasting time with this brainless meathead when there are still chores to be done?"

He kicks her so hard this time Nemu does shout in pain.

"Stop hurting her!"

"Please, stay out of this! You don't understand," she wheezes to Ichigo from the ground. Then, to her father as she slowly picks herself up, "It was a request from Prince Ishida. I will take the blame. This man is not at fault."

Ichigo is starting to gather that Nemu is like his whipping girl in this situation. Anything he does to piss off her father will be taken out on her. Immediately, he changes tactics. Ichigo grits his teeth and mutters an apology to the man, even throwing in a shallow bow for emphasis. He snorts disdainfully and rolls his yellowish eyes. Nemu wipes the blood from her chin and casts Ichigo a grateful glance. He resolves to apologize to her later, when this mook isn't around to ruin it.

"I will see you to your chambers to await Prince Ishida after his training session—"

"You will attend to your duties immediately, Nemu, or you will be severely punished," her father hisses with raised hand poised to strike.

"It's all right, I can find my own way back; I remember the route."

Nemu eyes him like she knows he is lying but when Ichigo shows her his determined expression, she seems to get it. Offering a subdued smile of gratitude, Nemu nods before turning to stride past Kurotsuchi, instantly eclipsed by darkness. The man gives Ichigo the stink-eye before following her.

Which leaves Ichigo standing in the middle of a subterranean labyrinth with zero clue how to climb his way back up to sunlight. Sighing, he resigns himself to some extra footwork today. At least he isn't out in the hot, sandy desert trailing after his powerhouse father towards an unknown city fraught with danger and foes. Oh, wait: that was yesterday.

* * *

A few hours later Ichigo still hasn't found anything resembling bedrooms—much less Prince Ishida's private suite—to obediently wait inside as promised. What he has found is tired feet and a ravenous appetite. Of course the handful of people he has come across haven't been able to understand a word he says. They all point in the general direction of the main hall but the last thing he wants is to bump into a crowd of weapon-wielding strangers and ask for directions to the prince's room.

Finding something that looks like a sitting room, Ichigo collapses into a chair and rubs his hands over his face. His stomach rumbles angrily and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Why did he think it was a good idea to skip breakfast this morning? Especially when he depleted what little energy he gained from Kenpachi's dinner leftovers staying up way too late with the prince. He needs to find the kitchen soon or he's not going to make it through the night.

Recalling once more their night together sends Ichigo into another dizzying daydream rife with mixed emotions.

Scuffling sounds in the room next to his distract him from his own woes. Ichigo pushes wearily to a stand so he can peek around the corner and inspect the noise. He balks at what he sees, not sure what to make of it. Two women are fighting each other, not with stereotypical slaps and hair-pulling but with some of the best martial arts Ichigo has ever seen.

They topple furniture and shred curtains as they punch and kick and fling each other around the small room. A candelabra crashes to the floor and sprays chunks of tallow across the intricate area rug. Their shouts and grunts of effort accompany crunching and shattering. Ichigo is about to rush in and break it up, if only to avoid drawing a detachment of guards to them, when the darker-skinned woman trips the smaller one and pins her to the floor.

Both women freeze in place as they start speaking to each other in low tones. Their language is different from Ichigo's or Ishida's. It's altogether unlike from anything he's heard before but he thinks he picks up on names. These two must be outsiders here, too! Judging from their expensive outfits, though, there's no way they're anything but high-class. What are two members of foreign royalty doing battling it out in a leisure room? What if they start a diplomatic episode that leads to senseless war? Maybe he should step in and mediate after all.

Then the woman perched on top kisses the smaller one and...Ichigo's jaw drops because they are pulling at each other's clothes and making a totally new set of sounds. Right about the time he glimpses boobs, Ichigo darts out of the rooms and carefully pulls the doors shut as he goes. Bracing against the outer door, he tries to rearrange his expression into something less shell-shocked. Nothing against girl-on-girl, but you don't see spontaneous fights-gone-frisky every day.

A retinue of guards rounds the corner and spots him. One of them yells and points. Ichigo doesn't have time to run before they're surrounding, grabbing, and dragging him down the hall. Struggling is useless among so many and he allows them to manhandle him through the halls. A few minutes of this is all he can stand before he is throwing off the two men strangling his arms and indicating that he will walk on his own.

The captain shrills at him and points to another door several meters away. When he doesn't move, the soldier draws his scimitar and points it at Ichigo's throat.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," he grumbles with raised hands. "You people could really benefit from cutting back on the violence, ya know."

Bitching like Ichigo just insulted his mother, the captain thrusts him into the room and slams the door in his face. At this point he doesn't even have the energy to be angry. Scanning the room yields a pitcher of freshwater on a stand in the corner. He promptly downs half. Some of it spills down his chin and splashes onto his vest but he can't be bothered to care. Ichigo barely swipes a sleeve across his mouth as an afterthought.

Rehydrated, he finally pays greater attention to his surroundings. Ishida's room? It's huge and well-furnished but impersonal and too neat. It seems more like a guest room than someone's personal living space. Given what little he has learned about the man, it's not surprising Ishida wouldn't feel entirely at home here.

Still doesn't change the fact that he's the reason Ichigo is having a _royally_ bad day.

Rehashing the limitless reasons he has to be furious right now sets his blood burning again. Ichigo collapses to the large, tidy bed and shuts his eyes to the world. He drapes his arms over his face and lets out a long breath. The only way he's going to make it through a whole season here is if he finds some way to tolerate everything. He needs to confront Ishida and get it all out in the open, talk it over. Make it right. That's the wisest option.

But when was Ichigo ever wise?

No, he's going to give Ishida a piece of his mind. Make him suffer the same confusion and irritation Ichigo has. Show him why he shouldn't be so quick to drag other people into his roiling vortex of deceit. For all he knows this entire thing was a ploy to get Ichigo tethered here. How dare Ishida get him wrapped up in all this? He wants a slave? Ichigo will be a true ball-and-chain!

A loud slam several minutes later has him jerking upright on the mattress. Ishida strides in with all the flurry and force of a whirlwind and Ichigo has a slew of biting comments ready to launch. Ishida beats him to it.

"I'm sure you have plenty to get off your chest after the trying day you must have had, Kurosaki, but now is not a good time. I will dutifully tolerate whatever arrows you wish to fire at me tomorrow. For now, a hot meal should be waiting for you in your room, adjacent to mine through that side-door. Feel free to take out any latent frustrations through cathartic destruction of palace property while you're there."

Affronted, Ichigo opens his mouth to start firing when he damn well pleases. Then he notices Ishida is turned away from him at an odd angle and his body language is off. Now that he looks closely, Ishida is a mess. Dirt and sand stain his ripped and wrinkled clothes. His hair is mussed and sweaty. Fresh bruises are in the process of blooming across what little skin is showing.

"What happened, Ishida?"

"It's none of your concern. Like I said, your dinner is waiting—"

"Did your dad throw you back in the ring because he found out about us?"

"Leave, Kurosaki!" he snaps, finally turning to scowl at Ichigo properly. "It has nothing to do with you!"

On the side of Ishida's face, not quite hidden by his fringe, is a trail of caked blood slowly oozing into the neckline of his shirt. Whatever harsh words Ichigo had prepared fade at the gruesome sight. Wordlessly, he walks around the prince and dumps the rest of the water into an empty basin, snatches up a clean rag, and dunks it in. When he turns around Ishida is watching him with narrowed eyes and baffled brow.

"Take off your shirt."

"What? You—"

Huffing in annoyance, Ichigo steps forward to tear the ruined article down the middle and flick it from the man's shoulders. Ishida's complaints are superseded by a hiss of pain when a piece of the fabric sticks to dried blood near an abdominal wound. It's relatively shallow and already on its way to closing but it still rings alarm bells in Ichigo's brain. If he thought the sultan was cruel before, this is downright sadistic.

"Shut up and hold still," he commands before guiding the prince to sit so Ichigo can kneel and start cleaning the cuts. "Do you have any poultices for these?"

Ishida slaps his hands away and starts to stand but Ichigo stops him. A quick struggle ensues; Ichigo has to pin his arms to the wall behind the chair to get him to stay put. Thoughts of those two women doing something similar earlier set Ichigo's stomach squirming. The prince winces as his injuries are jolted and Ishida turns a weak glare on him. He's too tired to put up much of a fight and they both know it.

"I can handle this myself, Kurosaki. I don't need you—"

"I don't remember asking what you need, Ishida. Maybe you should just quit fighting the inevitable and let me help you."

After an exchange of silent curses, Ishida shuts his eyes and goes pliant in Ichigo's grip. He stays still and stoic as his wounds are tended and even tells Ichigo where to find a tin of disinfecting salve. Only once the worst of his injuries are wrapped in clean bandages does Ishida revive and move away from him. He gingerly pulls on a new shirt and puts as much distance between them as he can. Ichigo stubbornly closes it.

"Now that you've patched me up, I'm in no danger of dying tonight," Ishida murmurs without looking at him. "There's no reason for you to stay. You must be hungry; go eat."

"Yeah, I'm starving. But I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're so shredded."

"I'm _fine_. This doesn't concern—"

"If you say that one more time, Ishida," he threatens with his tone, causing the man to sigh and rub a tired hand over his face. "I'm your dog now, right? So anything that affects you affects me. If someone is slicing into my master and making him bleed, I should know about it, shouldn't I? So stop saying it isn't my business and tell me what the hell is going on!"

Noting that the words 'dog' and 'master' make Ishida twitch in discomfort assuages some of Ichigo's residual resentment, but not much. He's upset with himself on top of everything for giving a crap about Ishida when he should be glad to see him suffering, too. Even now, seeing the man slouched from pain and fatigue just makes Ichigo want to fold him into his arms. He rebels against the idea.

"You already guessed it: training."

"Training so fierce and lengthy that it nearly killed you?"

"My father can be vindictive at times..."

"Why?" Ishida makes a face like he hadn't meant to admit that and Ichigo sucks in a sharp breath as he figures it out. "He sent you into the meat grinder because of me, didn't he? Payback for sneaking out of the palace to meet me."

"No, you don't understand."

"Yeah, I've been hearing that all day. There's a ton about this place I don't understand and probably never will. One thing I _do_ know, Ishida, is there's no way me showing up and you getting a massive beatdown in the same day is a coincidence. Admit it: the sultan hates my guts."

"It was my own fault," Ishida finally confesses as he leans against the wall. He wraps his arms around himself and rests his head on the cool stone. "After he sent you away I hounded him about having you released until I had no more words. We argued all afternoon and part of the evening before he ordered me to the ring. I fought. Then I found him and started up again. So he sent me back in for more punishment, saying I must not have worked hard enough if I 'still had the energy to whine'."

His hand moves before Ichigo can stop it. His fingers brush through Ishida's hair and the man looks up to lock startled eyes with him. Knowing that these wounds were endured _for_ Ichigo's sake rather than _because_ of him changes things. He's almost ready to start believing all the nice things Nemu said about him.

Ichigo's focus falls to the prince's mouth. It would be so easy to lean forward and make it all a little better for both of them. Ishida would welcome the distraction, he's sure, and a repeat of last night would be far from disagreeable. But this isn't the answer. It would only complicate things. He drops his hand, takes a step back, and pretends he doesn't read disappointment on Ishida's face.

"Thanks for trying, but maybe you should stop pushing it. Besides, my dad already left by now so I'm stuck whether I like it or not."

"I see..."

Slipping past him, Ishida pads across the room and cautiously lowers himself to the bed. A silent dismissal since the verbal ones haven't worked so far. Why does Ichigo suddenly feel like a jerk for implying he doesn't want to be here? It's Ishida's fault he's here, so of course he should feel badly about Ichigo's troubles, damn it!

"Look, let's just get through this without hating each other, okay? I'll stay out of trouble if you keep the royal goon squad off my back about being in their precious palace. Teach me some of the language so I can get by and then we don't even have to be around each other."

"Whatever you want, Kurosaki," he mumbles from halfway to unconsciousness.

"I think that might be the easiest way."

When an answer doesn't come, Ichigo inches towards the bed and peers over to see the prince's eyes closed, breathing steady with sleep. The man must really have been drained to pass out so fast. He watches a bit longer than he should before making his way to the door Ishida pointed at earlier. Inside is a smaller—though still very nice—room complete with promised dinner gone cold but still edible.

Eating it quickly while brooding, Ichigo fights back and forth with himself about their talk and his plan. He goes over the past two days' events so many times that he nearly makes himself dizzy. No matter how he looks at it, Ichigo has mixed feelings about Ishida that he can't seem to work through on his own. All he can do for now is get some rest and hope tomorrow goes better than today.


	4. Attrition

IV – **Attrition**

* * *

Uryuu's least-favorite brand of pain greets him upon waking. That sore, ache-y, half-healed kind that reminds him human survival must always be paid in prolonged affliction. Nothing he isn't used to. Peeling back the bandages to check on his healing progress, he notes that Kurosaki did a good job dressing them. They're already sealed and remain uninfected.

Thinking of the man brings a fresh wave of mental anguish. It was baffling enough having him tend Uryuu so carefully and then talk about how unhappy he is here with such an abrasive attitude. Although he can't blame Kurosaki for feeling that way, it still hurts to know being near him is considered a negative experience. He really did try everything he could think of to get Ryuuken to let him leave, including serious threats. Those alone were grounds for worse castigation than Uryuu received.

The first thing he must do is bathe. One of the few ways he actually resembles royalty is in his penchant for cleanliness and there's no chance he can function while covered in sweat, dirt, and crusted blood. Since Uryuu can't risk leaving Kurosaki on his own again—at least until he has a basic grasp of the language—he will have to bring the man with him wherever he goes. Which means he must wake his new servant and face his wrath on top of everything else Uryuu is already dealing with.

Rising from bed proves challenging. He feels like a tenderized piece of meat, ready to be tossed on the cookfire and fried. Considering what still lies ahead for both of them, Uryuu imagines they will meet that fire soon enough.

"Kurosaki?" he calls after a loud knock on the door. "May I come in?"

No answer. Uryuu takes a steadying breath before making his way inside. Kurosaki is still passed out on the bed which has never been used because Uryuu could never stand to take a personal servant. Seeing the man sprawled shirtless and face-down with the covers kicked off sparks all sorts of emotions Uryuu would rather not think about right now. The fact that he saw this very display only yesterday under extremely different circumstances makes it that much more disconcerting.

Shaking out of the reverie, he calls out again. When that still doesn't work, Uryuu touches a hand to a warm shoulder and nearly jumps out of his skin when his wrist is caught. Before it registers, Kurosaki has tackled him to the floor, holding a short knife to his throat. When did he get a weapon? Their eyes meet and Uryuu's attacker blinks in sleepy recognition.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, Ishida."

"Do you always wake up this aggressively? Guess I shouldn't feel guilty about leaving first yesterday morning."

A strange expression flits across Kurosaki's face at the reminder. He retreats and helps pull Uryuu to a stand. The worst wound on his stomach has reopened from the tumble, seeping red through white bandage and shirt alike. Kurosaki pales and apologizes again as he reaches for him. Uryuu evades mostly out of habit and then remembers who he's dealing with. The man shoots him a look for being obstinate and lifts Uryuu's shirt to check the damage.

"This is worse than I thought," Kurosaki tells him in a foreboding tone from the vicinity of his belly button. "Do you have a shaman or someone who can look at this?"

"Yes, but this isn't critical. We need to stop by the bathhouse."

"Oh, no," he pushes upright and shakes his head in horror. "No way I'm going back there after last time. Those women—"

"The attendants? What did they...?" Trailing off as he puts it together, Uryuu slowly smiles. "They gave you the full treatment yesterday, didn't they? It can be a bit traumatizing the first time. I hope they were gentle with you."

"Shut up!"

Snickering as the man reddens, Uryuu grabs Kurosaki's shirt lying nearby and tosses it to him. "Come on. I'll dismiss them while we're there."

Kurosaki purses his lips but doesn't complain. He pulls on his shirt, foregoing the accessory layers to his outfit, and silently follows Uryuu's lead. They attract strange looks walking the halls together. People avoid eye contact and drawing too close to them but that is nothing out of the ordinary. Uryuu focuses on keeping pressure on his abdomen and staying upright in spite of the strain. He hasn't felt this rough in a very long time. It wouldn't be surprising if it turns out he has a mild concussion. Kurosaki inadvertently preventing him from going straight to sleep after training was probably a boon.

"Prince Ishida, are you all right?" the head attendant, Lady Unohana, cries as they walk into the bathhouse. "You're in tatters again!"

"If your father wasn't the sultan, I swear I would..." sighs Hinamori behind her.

"Then he wouldn't be in such bad shape to begin with, would he?" quips Isane from where she stands stocking the towel shelf.

"I've had worse," he promises them. "I'll be fine. We could really use a bath, though. If you wouldn't mind leaving us to it for a while? My new companion here isn't used to assistance."

"We could tell," snickers Hinamori behind her hand. "He was blushing and babbling last time."

"No clue what he was saying, but we gathered it was about not wanting help," Isane adds as she walks over to join them. "But Nemu instructed us to be thorough, so...we were very thorough."

"And he didn't even try anything with us!"

"Unfortunately..."

The younger women giggle about that and Unohana promptly shoos them from the room with a matronly sternness. She nods to the two men and pulls the privacy curtain to keep others from entering until they leave. As soon as they're gone, Kurosaki heaves a sigh of relief.

"Man, why do they always laugh like that when I'm around? It's really unsettling. Were they talking about me?"

"Only good things," smirks Uryuu. "They're harmless."

"They sure seem to like you. The older woman looked worried."

"It's her job: Unohana and her team are the official palace healers. They only work in here when they don't have any patients."

He directs Kurosaki to help pour some of the boiling cauldrons into one of the pools. Still weak, Uryuu nearly drops one of them. The steam is going straight to his head and he is resenting his low blood pressure more than usual. He stumbles, dropping to a knee, and Kurosaki has to grab his shoulder to keep him from pitching forward into the water.

"How much blood did you lose before you got back to your room yesterday?" he demands with an anxious look. "I'll call the attendants back in."

"No, Kurosaki, it's fine."

"I'm really beginning to doubt you understand the meaning of that word."

"I'll be all right once I'm in the water. The bath is shallow enough; I won't drown."

"Not unless you pass out in the steam. I've seen what happens to wounded warriors who overheat, Ishida! Even the strongest man can faint from blood loss."

"Then maybe you should stick around and keep me awake." They both fall silent at that. The tension between them that ebbs and flows but never quite dissipates intensifies at the suggestion. Swallowing hard, Uryuu quietly adds, "Communal bathing is the norm here and it's nothing you haven't already seen."

"Um."

"Unless you're uncomfortable..."

"N-no, it's, uh," Kurosaki glances away, jaw twitching. "I'll do you—do it _for_ you. I mean, I'll stay and help."

Fighting the urge to chortle a bit hysterically, Uryuu nods, "I would be grateful."

They start pulling off their own clothes, careful to keep their eyes to themselves. The room is too quiet; every hiss of fabric and wisp of inhale is amplified within it. Uryuu works to keep his heart rate controlled but hearing Kurosaki's breaths coming faster ruins his efforts. He pauses at his pants before shoving them off and immediately sinking into the water, gasping at the heat. Kurosaki is slow to join him. Once he regains the courage to look at the man, Uryuu sees it was because he had the presence of mind to set a basket of soaps and cloths near the edge.

After a quick dunk to wet his hair, Uryuu reaches for a glass bottle and cringes when raising his arms above his head pulls at his cuts. Kurosaki doesn't wait to be asked. He grabs, uncorks, and upends some of it onto black locks. Uryuu starts to lather it in but even that minimal motion proves painful.

"Let me," Kurosaki murmurs over soft water sounds. "Turn around."

Uryuu does as instructed, propping his hands against the warm stone rim and tilting his head back for easier access. His eyes close on their own the moment Kurosaki's fingers find him. He can't remember the last time anyone other than his family cared enough to look after him like this. Outside of a few midnight ménages, Uryuu really hasn't had much human contact over the years. It has been affecting him more than he wants to admit.

"You're...surprisingly good at this," Uryuu feels compelled to say. "All of this."

"I have two younger sisters. I'm used to taking care of them."

"Tell me about them?" Uryuu requests, suddenly curious about Kurosaki's life.

"Well, Karin isn't like other girls. She loves fighting and athletics more than making dresses or raising kids. She has always looked up to me too much: she made me teach her how to use a sword when she was eight." Interrupting his own monologue to help rinse Uryuu's hair, he picks up a cloth and begins washing his shoulders. "Yuzu is pretty simple. She loves cute things and keeping everyone happy. She's really good with food and wants to apprentice with the Inoue clan to learn the baking skill."

"Inoue—wasn't that the name of your betrothed?"

"Yeah...about that," Kurosaki sighs, cooling the water on Uryuu's neck. "Look, it wasn't my idea to cheat on her with you or anything. It's embarrassing to say but I wasn't exactly thinking of how she'd feel about it when I kissed you. I wasn't exactly thinking at all."

Turning around, Uryuu takes the cloth from him and resumes washing without his help. He's not sure he likes the sound of these implications. Kurosaki retreats to the other side of the narrow pool and paddles idly at the water.

"Just proof of my seductive prowess."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. Orihime and I don't know each other in a romantic sense. We've never been more than friends. We grew up together. I'm not even sure I could be interested in her that way, much less...do other things with her. I've never been with a woman."

"Then why are you marrying her?"

"Same reason you'll have to marry some princess eventually. Continue the family line and all that. Plus, my dad wanted rights to do business with them. Trading baked goods and delicacies."

"It all comes back to politics."

"They don't really approve of...other types of relationships here, do they?"

"Unfortunately, no. It is still punishable by death. I can't exactly lobby for change to my father without calling myself into question. Even though it has recently been all but confirmed, I still can't give him more reason to take disciplinary action. But once I become sultan..."

"That is so _weird_ because yesterday I saw two women going at it in one of the lounges. They didn't seem to care that they might be interrupted or anything."

"What women?" Uryuu drops the cloth in shock. "What do you mean 'going at it'?"

"Well, Ishida, I mean this dark-skinned woman named Yolorichi and a tiny woman named Silk Fang—or something like that—were smacking each other around before they started shucking each other's clothes off."

Sloshing closer in disbelief, Uryuu snaps, "Soi Fong and Yoruichi?"

"Yeah, that was it."

"That is...Wow. I did not see that coming. Yoruichi is an heiress from a western country on a diplomatic visit and Soi Fong is her personal servant."

"Kinda like you and me?"

"I suppose," he distractedly agrees. Uryuu is too busy working through the idea of those two doing anything but arguing with each other to notice the way Kurosaki is looking at him. Until he realizes how close they are. "What are you doing?"

"So, you're saying that—hypothetically—if we wanted to...have a repeat of the other night," Kurosaki skates a palm across the water's surface between them and Uryuu follows the smooth motion with widening eyes, "We can't?"

It takes him a moment to process what Kurosaki is asking. Some part of him wishes he never did. Now he's looking at the man's chest and marveling at the colors of his tattoos in the morning light. Reflections of sunrays dance along the edges of his muscle definition. Droplets shine on the long column of his throat as they slide downward. Kurosaki's eyes are dark with interest, his lips parted and moist. A telltale hunger flares. Uryuu plants a bracing hand to the wall as a wave of dizziness hits him, his heart gone out of control.

"Would you even want to? I was under the impression you blamed our tryst for your current misery. Blamed _me_."

Kurosaki hesitates. Frowns. Lowers his gaze. Uryuu grits his teeth against self-loathing before definitively answering the man's question. "No, Kurosaki. We can't."

* * *

Their decision sets the precedent for the next couple of lunar cycles. They follow Kurosaki's plan to the letter: teaching him the language and culture, making sure he doesn't break the rules, and most importantly keeping distance from each other. In fact, aside from communicating vital information, they barely speak. Uryuu spends most of his time running a royal gauntlet under sultan's orders while Kurosaki alternates training with studying. He and Uryuu's grandfather get along disturbingly well.

Actually, Kurosaki is the least of his problems lately.

Souken finds him in the garden. Surprised to see his grandfather outside of the tower, Uryuu fumbles the bag of grain and drops it on the ground with a heavy thump. The hungry goats, sheep, and Oryx he was feeding bleat and scatter, only to return moments later and continue grazing. It's been years since he was able to comfortably descend the flights of stairs leading up to the library. Not that the older man ever minded: books have always been like close friends to him.

"Master, is something wrong?"

"Not to worry, Uryuu, I am fine. A little sore but I will live." A strained smile conveys all Uryuu needs to know. Something must have happened in the tower! Before he can ask more questions, Souken has a few of his own. "It is nice to see you applying yourself, but since when do they have you feeding livestock? Is this a strange new torment of your father's? Should I speak with him about promoting you to chef?"

"I'm covering for the usual aide who fell ill," he says, ignoring the playful jibe. "I overheard a couple of the attendants discussing it in the hall and offered to help."

"Of course you did."

"I had some spare time since Kurosaki is training. I am told he has progressed so quickly that he can only fight with the arena master, as I do, which means we have to alternate days now. Ryuuken merely ordered me to 'make myself useful' in the meantime, unless something else comes up. So, I'm making myself useful."

"Perhaps the two of you should spar, then." At Uryuu's panicked look, the scholar smiles. "So you _have_ been avoiding each other. Tell me, my favorite student, what possible reason could you have to refuse the company of one such as young Ichigo?"

"What? How did you—?"

"That child is too honest for his own good. He finally confessed that you two have been on poor terms for some time. I can't imagine why. Knowing you both as I do, there should be no stronger friendship in this land." Uryuu scowls at a nearby goat because he can't answer. He retrieves the grain and resumes tossing handfuls out for the eager herd. Souken halts him with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "The boy is intelligent, powerful, and loyal, Uryuu. He has enormous potential, though he does not yet understand it. A better ally for your future could not be made."

"He despises me, Grandfather! I am the reason he is rooted here against his will," he whips around to exclaim. The morning sunlight glares off the palace's bright exterior and Uryuu blames his extra blinking on its dazzle. "It doesn't matter what I want. It doesn't matter how I feel about him. We can never be allies."

Eyeing him with trademark calm wisdom, Souken waits for Uryuu to settle himself down with slow breaths before responding to that. "As usual, you underestimate the power of forgiveness. Have you spoken to the boy of your feelings? Expressed that you wish to make amends?"

"It is not that simple."

"I am willing to bet that it is. Where is the harm in trying?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Uryuu shakes his head. "Never mind that. I wish to know why you have been kicked out of the tower."

"Do not concern yourself about that," he sighs and waves a dismissive hand. "It is the latest development in palace politics courtesy of your father's ambitious advisor."

"Kurotsuchi did this?"

"They have decided to catalog and 'purify' our library for the sake of our immortal souls."

Although it is said with a sarcastic tone, Uryuu can sense the underlying uncertainty and worry. The library is his life and Kurotsuchi is not to be trusted in the best of circumstances. Uryuu will never understand what sway he holds over the sultan nor why he has been allowed such power. He has been campaigning against the mad alchemist for years to no avail.

"I will speak to Father."

"Absolutely not."

"But, Master—"

"No, I want you to find that wild-haired young man and lock him in a room with you until you both smooth out all the rough edges." Uryuu chokes on his own tongue and covers it with a coughing fit. "This foolish stubbornness must end, Uryuu. Promise me."

"I..." Truly torn between lying or making an excuse, Uryuu does neither. "I promise, Master."

"Good. Go now. I will finish this task."

Souken takes the bag from his loose hold, leaving Uryuu standing there feeling a little lost. He nods and thanks the man before turning to head across the field and back into the palace. Walking aimlessly, he simmers at the idea of someone so dignified and renowned being kicked out of his element and overruled by a pack of glorified troglodytes. If anyone should be given the highest regard for what he has contributed to the wellbeing of this country, it's Souken. The next time he sees Kurotsuchi, he will—

"How many times must I tell you, Nemu? Stupid, stupid girl!"

"My sincerest apologies, Master Mayu—Agh!"

Uryuu's simmer quickens to a boil at the sight of that monster harming his friend again. While he learned long ago that getting between them will always have the opposite result, Uryuu has found subtler ways to get back at the abusive cretin. This time won't be so subtle. He marches right up to the duo and addresses Nemu only.

"As crown prince of this land, I order you to go out into the stockyard and assist the Master Scholar in his current undertaking."

She bows and walks past him without a backward glance to her father. They have done this several times before, using the formal phrase that Kurotsuchi can't counter because Uryuu still outranks him. It always comes back to bite him in the ass but right now he doesn't care about consequences. Kurotsuchi skewers him with rampant hatred that Uryuu readily returns.

"Haven't you learned what meddling in my affairs gets you, _Prince_?"

"Funny. I was about to ask the same."

"Get out of my way, boy," he hisses through yellowing teeth. His acrid breath has Uryuu scrunching his nose in disgust. "I don't have time to play today."

"Then get your men out of my library!"

"Gladly. Just as soon as they finish rounding up all those ghastly, iniquitous tomes. Filled with filth and lies, polluting all who sip of their wicked poison."

"You speak of filth when you don't even believe in proper hygiene?" Uryuu quips, derailing the melodrama before it can pick up speed. Then he steps closer, deadly serious, and growls a dark threat, "I want your moronic cronies out of the tower _now_ , Kurotsuchi, or I swear I will see you cast into the desert at last."

Despite him meaning every word, Kurotsuchi is unfazed. He turns up his nose and sneers at Uryuu before crooning, "Rather than worrying about that decrepit geezer, perhaps you should be more concerned with your perishing mother. I have an inkling she isn't faring so well of late."

The blood drains from Uryuu's face as the revelation leaves him staggered. He can't form words to question the man, not that Kurotsuchi would answer honestly. Uryuu bolts. Running faster than he ever has, Uryuu races across the smooth stone floors. He kicks off his stupid tufted slippers when they almost make him trip rounding a corner. A couple of brave guards call out, asking about his obvious alarm, but he ignores them.

His mother. Kurotsuchi did something to _his mother_.

The hapless guard at her door doesn't have time to move aside in time; Uryuu shoves and the man hits the floor with a noisy clatter of weapons and armor. The door is next and it rebounds from the wall with a jarring _thud_. Uryuu crumples to a stop at the side of her bed, gasping past the pain of burning lungs as he reaches for her hand.

"Mother!? Mother, are you all right?" He watches closely for her next breath. He sees it. "Mother!"

"Uryuu?" she sleepily mumbles, "Is that you?"

"Yes! Yes, it's me." Tears of relief spring to his eyes unbidden and he blinks them away before they fall. Uryuu tightens his grasp on her hand and leans forward to brush an errant strand of hair from her forehead. She smiles at the touch. "How do you feel?"

"I am well, my sweet boy," Kanae promises. Rising from the haze of rest, she notices his distress. "What has happened?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. I thought you might have...but you're okay. You are okay so it doesn't matter anymore."

Too weak to sit up on her own, his mother welcomes his help so she can lean against the headrest. She tugs gently at his arm so Uryuu will perch beside her on the bed instead of kneeling on the floor. Kanae pulls him into a long hug and he breathes in her familiar scent. Heart still racing, he draws back to check her for injuries, only relaxing when he finds none.

"I've missed you, Uryuu."

"Me, too. I'm sorry I haven't come sooner. Father keeps me so busy." It's the usual excuse. He doesn't have it in him to admit seeing her like this is too painful to tolerate every day. "Has anyone new been to visit you? Given you anything unusual?"

"No, nothing like that. What has you so worked-up?"

"I believed something that was said to me. It was foolish."

"My son is incapable of being foolish," she beams with the kindest eyes, smoothing a palm across his cheek. Uryuu leans into the embrace with closed eyes. "Unlike your father. Tell him I said to give you more free time. Growing boys need their adventures."

"I'm hardly growing anymore, Mother. I'm already two-and-twenty. Besides, he never listens to me." Considering her tone when speaking of Ryuuken, something occurs to him. "When was the last time Father visited you?"

A pause precedes her evasive reply. "Your father has many responsibilities."

"Yes, I suppose he does."

A cold weight settles into his stomach. Uryuu has been so wrapped-up in his own troubles and what is _not_ happening with Kurosaki that he hasn't been paying enough attention to the events around him. This ever-shifting chess board of a city requires constant supervision to keep the balance of power from shifting against him. He made the mistake of thinking he could narrow his focus for just a little while. A couple of moons pass and suddenly his grip is slipping to the point that his entire family is endangered.

This political war of attrition cannot continue.


	5. Forbidden Truce

**V – Forbidden Truce**

* * *

Dodging behind a life-size marble statue of some bird-headed god, Ichigo bites his lip in trepidation. That was too close. He wasn't expecting Ishida to come marching from his mother's room, straight up to his father in the counsel room, and then throw a punch in front of all those diplomats. Luckily, the sultan blocked it before it landed and Ishida won't be executed, but the shock it caused almost got Ichigo caught. Now he's eavesdropping on the raging argument they started once the onlookers were dismissed.

He's been trailing the prince all day.

It started out innocently enough. Arena Master Tousen ended their training early when more pressing matters demanded his presence. Since no one seemed to care what Ichigo did instead, he wandered back to the prince's suite in the hopes of finding him there. He has been wanting to have a serious talk with the man for some time, but Ishida always seems to be too busy for him.

In the meantime, Ichigo has been doing his best to study and practice, all the better to understand Ishida's world. There has been no lack of opportunities to do just that. If he could keep Ishida in the same room for more than a few minutes, Ichigo would be able to prove how much he has learned. Master Souken tells him he is very nearly fluent in their language and adept with their culture. All this work and the one person he's doing it for won't look twice at him.

It's Ichigo's own fault. He's the one who established all these dumb rules and suggested this irritating distance. Ichigo wants to know more about Ishida. Wants to spend time with him, get to know him better. Truthfully, he already forgave the prince. Once he got used to it, being a 'royal servant' in this palace really isn't so bad. He's just been waiting for the chance to tell Ishida that.

Which is what led him to tracking the prince down in the stockyard this morning. Overhearing the conversation with his grandfather only encouraged him. Ishida may not have said it explicitly, but he implied that he wouldn't mind a reconciliation, either. Ichigo tried to approach him in the hall after that, but then the whole Kurotsuchi incident happened and he was too stunned to learn about Ishida's mother to think straight. He hadn't known Ishida still _had_ a mother, much less that she was ailing and bedridden.

Talk about keeping secrets.

Now he's listening to Ishida scream at his dad and demand Kurotsuchi's exile for his wife's and father's sakes. But the sultan isn't having it. Chalking the prince's hysteria up to a new form of acting out since he is no longer allowed to leave the palace. Ichigo hears his own name and their volume drops. He has to creep closer to the doorway to pick up on their low tones.

There are still a couple of words he doesn't comprehend, but he gets the gist. Ishida's old man is interrogating him about his relationship with Ichigo. The prince tells him the truth: they don't have one. No giddy late-night chats. No frisky wrestling matches. No steamy make-out sessions. No crazy monkey-sex. Nothing at all.

Ichigo reddens at Ishida's raunchy words even as he wants to crack up imagining the look on his father's face for hearing them. Then he drops to a crouch on the other side of a giant green urn as Ishida storms out of the counsel hall. When he tries to sneak out and follow him, a firm grip on his shoulder stops him dead. Ichigo jerks his head around to see the sultan himself staring down a regal nose in all his white-maned, golden-clad glory. If he thought Ishida dresses fancy, his pops practically wears a jewels cache.

"A word, if I may," he demands, pulling Ichigo into the more private chamber.

"Look, before you have me killed, I don't usually snoop on your son, I swear! Tousen gave me the day off and I just—"

"Nonsense. I would be worried if you weren't keeping tabs on Uryuu."

"Um...Huh?"

"Do you care about him?" The earnest question kind of throws Ichigo so it takes a second for him to answer with a slow nod. "Then I must ask a favor of gravest importance."

"Okay...?"

" _Stay by his side_ ," the sultan firmly enunciates each word with a gaze so piercing it hurts Ichigo's brain. "Uryuu is in immense peril from those who seek to undermine this country. He believes I am unaware of the serpents in our garden, that I unknowingly allow them to propagate, but these fiends are not so easily culled. That is why I cannot do as he requests. That is why he must train so fiercely."

"Have you tried explaining all this to him?" Ichigo asks and crosses his arms over his chest. "Maybe he could help find a solution. He's a lot smarter than you give him credit for."

"I want him as far from this conflict as possible; less involvement means less danger for him. If anything happened to Uryuu, I—" Glancing away, Ryuuken cuts himself off and clenches his jaw until the muscle jumps. Then he rounds on Ichigo so fast he starts "He is the most precious thing in the entire kingdom. We must not lose him. Do you understand?"

Momentarily too stunned for words, Ichigo's mouth falls open on a stilted exhale. This might be one revelation too many for one day. Not only are Ishida's many concerns about palace politics completely justified, but his father actually cares about him? Enough to consign Ichigo as a bodyguard—Wait. That's it!

"You did this!" The sultan frowns but holds his tongue. "All of this, you—It wasn't an accident at all, was it? That's why my father brought me along on this voyage for a change. You were never going to let me go home, even if Ishida hadn't found me that night."

Seconds tick by while they stare each other down. The sultan finally cracks. "I've known your father for many years. He told me about you and I made the request: he agreed on the condition that you knew nothing of the contract's origins."

"Goat-face knew I'd never consent to signing up for foot-service with some foreign prince," Ichigo snaps. "Bastard duped me for the sake of what—a business pact?"

"That, plus quite a bit of gold and the promise that you would receive ample education, of which I hear you have taken full advantage." Scoffing at that, Ichigo turns to walk out but the sultan stops him. "I need your word: protect my son at any cost. Never leave his side as long as you are here."

Shaking the man's hand from his arm, Ichigo glowers and barks, "You have it."

* * *

That night, Ichigo finally finds the prince back where he started: training in the combat amphitheatre. It's an impressive dome complete with wide oculus, meticulously-combed sand floor, and rows of tiered seats carved into a semi-circle. Torches compensate for the sun's current absence, vibrantly ablaze in wrought-iron holders at even intervals around the border. The flames cast frenetic shadows across the arching interior. Racks of weapons, shields, and armor line the far wall among various training devices.

A furious cascade of _thunks_ and _bangs_ and _crashes_ sounds across the wide chamber. He follows until he finds the source. Ishida is railing against a sturdy training dummy with twin daggers and a permanent snarl like it ate his kitten. Ichigo has to take a moment to admire his prowess, watching the prince level mortal strike after strike in a blur of motion. Facing away from the entrance, he neither sees nor hears Ichigo's approach.

He makes the mistake of being too close when he calls Ishida's name. The frenzied man whirls around and Ichigo barely manages to dodge a wide slice at his midsection. The silk of his shirt parts in a fine horizontal slit.

"Whoa, Ishida, it's me!" He stops mid-stab a hairsbreadth from Ichigo's chest. "Please don't murder me?"

Panting and wiping sweat from his brow, Ishida sheaths his weapons and grunts, "Bad time, Kurosaki."

"I guessed as much. But this is important."

"It can wait."

"It can't." Ishida moves to push past him anyway but Ichigo blocks his escape. "Hear me out."

"You are not the one who issues orders here," he reminds Ichigo with a forceful shove. "Get out of my way."

It's clear Ishida is _pissed_ and none of this is going to be easy but he has no choice. He allows the prince to push by before using words meant to cut. It's the only way he can get through to him. Besides, Ichigo is already reacting to the crackling feedback that always builds up the longer they're in proximity to each other. It sharpens his senses and heats his blood.

"Stop running away from me, Ishida."

He stops. A beat. And Ishida is in his face grabbing his shirt like he wants to choke Ichigo with it.

"Who would run from you, Kurosaki? You have a problem with me, too? Want to pile on more judgment?" The beginnings of hysteria twist out a mocking sneer. "Why not? Go ahead and tear into me. Everyone else already has."

"I'm not here to attack you," Ichigo calmly murmurs, setting his hands over Ishida's fists on his chest. "But you're not going to like what I have to say."

Ishida snatches his hands from the loose touch as if it burns. He takes a step back from Ichigo and visibly reigns himself in, going into formal prince-mode. Ichigo instantly resents the emotional distance, even though it's what he asked for.

"Get it over with, then."

"I followed you around today," he blurts. Ishida freezes in place, eyes wide. "From your talk with Master Souken to the confrontation with Kurotsuchi. Then checking in with your mom—" The prince's entire body jolts at the last part and Ichigo pauses at the violent expression he adopts. "A-and the fight with your father. I know I broke your trust and I'm sorry but you were never going to—Guh!"

Ichigo's breath bursts out of him as his back hits the sand. Ishida's fist snaps his head sideways in a heavy left hook as his weight settles above Ichigo. He fights back on instinct, blocking blows and throwing elbows. Ichigo buys a moment's reprieve when he catches him in the ribs. Ishida hisses and balks at the twinge of pain long enough for Ichigo to dislodge him. They scrabble to a stand, kicking up sand and facing off.

" _Traitor_!" Ishida bellows, an echoing accusation amplified by their surroundings. "I should have known you were a worthless, sniveling spy! What else do you want from me now that you know all my secrets? Are you reporting to Kurotsuchi? It was an act from the beginning, wasn't it? An intricate ploy to get past my guard."

"What!? Wait, slow down! I'm not a spy," cries Ichigo, head swimming from the volatile switch. He wasn't quite expecting this much rage. "I'm not reporting to anyone, much less that sadistic freak."

"I don't believe you! How could I after what you've done?"

Ichigo starts to reply but changes tactics when a knife sings by his ear. He draws his blade to parry and Ishida spins to land a kick in his side and unbalance him. The next swing draws a thin line of blood up Ichigo's arm. He drops to a knee to avoid a strike at his throat. Tossing his own dagger to make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt the prince, he tackles Ishida and wrangles one of his weapons away. He sends it skidding across the arena but Ishida draws its twin without hesitation. Ichigo shouts and ducks, startled at the cropped strands of orange that fall to dust the prince's pale shirt.

A punch cramps his diaphragm and Ichigo groans as he is dumped onto his side. Gasping as another slice is made, he blocks a jab and yells when Ishida buries the point into the sand right beside his head. It's so close that it nicks Ichigo's ear. He kicks out hard with both legs, knocking the prince back with a shower of earth. Ishida flips to his feet just as Ichigo jerks upright. In a desperate move, Ichigo grabs him about the middle from behind, locking his arms at his sides.

"Ishida, _please_! Just calm down for a minute and let me explain."

"What's left to explain?" he growls and struggles against the hold. Ichigo coughs from the dust shaking free of black hair. "You know too much about me, about my family. I can't let you hurt them!"

"I would _never_ hurt them! The only reason I followed you," huffs Ichigo from the strain of holding onto the man, "Was because I want to _help_ , you idiot! I'm sick of watching you suffer."

In an explosion of reserve strength, Ishida busts loose and plants a heel into his solar plexus, sending him flying backward. Colors flash across his eyes and Ichigo takes too long to regroup. He makes it to leaning on elbows when Ishida descends on him once more. This time he has a full-size scimitar pressing a cold crescent on his jugular. But when Ichigo looks past the blade and meets conflicted blue eyes, all panic drains from him.

"How can I trust you? If you know about my mother—"

"Then I can help you keep her safe. Your grandfather, too." The sword bites harder and Ichigo ignores the sting. He takes a deep breath and pleads with his eyes. "Uryuu, let me help you. I need to help you."

Pulse pounding as he waits for the decision, Ichigo holds completely still and offers no resistance. If his words and expression won't convince the prince of his sincerity, it's useless anyway. The tense seconds slog by like hours but he stays resolute. Part of him knows Ishida won't seriously hurt him. His wounds are all superficial, half-hearted. The first serious strike would have taken his life.

Ishida's face crumples as he slowly withdraws the scimitar before hurling it aside. He tries to flee then but Ichigo won't allow it. This time he pulls the prince into a gentler hold from his perch in Ichigo's lap; Ishida still attempts to break free.

"Kurosaki, _don't_."

The waver in his voice only encourages Ichigo to cling to him tighter. "Shut up and let me comfort you, will ya?"

It takes a long moment for the tension to start unwinding from Ishida's body. Even longer for him to relax into the embrace. Eventually, he drops his head to Ichigo's shoulder and returns the gesture with shaking hands. His breathing slows. Ichigo turns his head to kiss the side of his neck. When that doesn't scare him away, he touches another to the edge of Ishida's jaw. The hollow behind his ear. The arch of his cheek. The corner of his mouth.

Ishida's breathing quickens.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, leaning only far enough away to meet Ichigo's gaze. "I thought you—"

"I forgive you, Uryuu." He watches the prince swallow against the emotions those words summon. "I forgive you for whatever I thought you did. It was never your fault. I shouldn't have blamed you and I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. Can you forgive _me_?"

Ishida's kiss steals his breath faster than any strike. They slam into the sand, grasping and tugging. Every ounce of anxiety and fear they've endured, every drop of tension and desire they've harbored exploding out of them all at once. Ishida's tongue touching his in greeting, in yearning. So much time spent longing for this, just to have a connection they don't have to fight against. A warm hand slipping into Ichigo's shirt. Some essential part of the world clicks solidly into place. Ishida's strained voice calling his name.

The prince grazes teeth across the thick ridge of a shoulder and he tears the shirt to reveal flesh. Ichigo's mouth finds all the best planes and edges to trace. The taste of sand on skin sparks a cherished memory. The first time they were together, they took their time. Exploring, learning, and savoring. There is none of that deliberate poise now. Ichigo bares his teeth as he destroys Ishida's clothes in rough rips. He groans at the treatment and rolls to pull Ichigo on top of him.

"Don't hold back, Ichigo," he hoarsely commands. The vital red of Ishida's flushed lips beckons. "Don't you _dare_ hold back."

Ichigo obeys. He flings Ishida's legs apart, shifts his hips down to arch his back, and fits snugly into the space where he belongs. Biting his lip in anticipation, Ishida moans when their bodies meet. Ichigo tangles a hand into his hair and curls the other over a hip to serve as anchors. He seeks Ishida's eyes as he starts to move. The prince's hands grab and scratch and pull at him. He rolls his spine in time with Ichigo's powerful thrusts, flawlessly dancing to a primeval song.

The back of his head burrowing deeper into the sand, Ishida smothers the sounds of his excitement against Ichigo's wrist. He bites lightly there and sucks at the sting. Ichigo tugs his hair and returns this attention to Ishida's unguarded neck, winning a startled moan. The prince finds his mouth at the same time that he reaches both hands down to squeeze Ichigo's ass, demanding a faster pace. He takes the cue only after forcefully pinning Ishida's arms above his head. The dominant gesture immediately changes the pitch of the prince's increasing cries.

Flickering golden links catch Ichigo's eye. He watches the way his bracelets shift over skin with their frantic movements, angling towards the fingers locked around Ishida's wrists. The rhythmic thump of a matching necklace against Ichigo's collar bone clamors for recognition. Twin chains caught between shifting ankles completes the design and a revelation steals the last of Ichigo's restraint. The oppressive cast of these pieces shifts precious.

"I'm yours, Uryuu," he impulsively whispers in his own language. "Always yours."

Uryuu's answer is in the shocked flare of his bright eyes and a desperate kiss.

Mere minutes of this is all they can handle. Pleasure punches into them like a brutal beating and Ichigo makes a stilted, catching noise like a sob against Ishida's working chest. A nefarious, longstanding anxiety Ichigo hadn't realized he'd been enduring evaporates from within. The relief shivers through him and worsens his body's trembling.

With great effort, he raises his head to look at Ishida. The prince is in a similar state with eyes still shut tightly even as his mouth stays open, rattled by the sheer power of what they just shared. Ichigo touches his lips along the side of his face and caresses the edge of his arm with light fingers. The tip of his nose grazes Ishida's and the man slowly opens his eyes. They mirror and intensify everything Ichigo is feeling.

Another long kiss distracts until Ishida's hand slides over a fresh cut. Ichigo breaks away with a shallow gasp.

"I'm sorry, Ichigo," the prince murmurs after a glance at the mild injury. "I should never have—"

"It's nothing. I would gladly take a hundred more."

The gravity of that statement settles over them like a prophecy. It changes the mood and they start shifting to get up. Ichigo pulls on his ruined pants and silently appreciates the fact that almost everyone is asleep this time of night and they aren't likely to be seen. The sultan may have implied royal sanction for their relationship but he'd rather not take chances. They'll have to be more careful next time.

And yes, Ichigo decides as he watches Ishida gracefully slip on the tattered fabric, there will definitely be a next time.

* * *

They spend the next fortnight making up for lost time. Ichigo's allotted duration here is already nearing an end and he doesn't know what he should do, what he _can_ do. They haven't talked about it. Too terrified of what it means to give it words. The last thing Ichigo wants to do is spoil what few moments they have left worrying about what happens when it's over.

Yet, as he watches the prince smile serenely at the book he's reading, Ichigo worries.

He keeps picturing this scene where he tells both of their fathers that he won't leave Ishida and he doesn't care what they have to say about it. But it's not that simple. Ishida is the sole heir of an empire, which means he will have to marry a woman and have more princes and princesses. He'll have to lead an entire country eventually. There's no way Ichigo could have an acceptable place in that scenario. Even if he were just a bodyguard, one wrong word or gesture could get Ichigo killed and turn the people against Ishida. They already proved that the day of the bazaar.

Ichigo has responsibilities, too. His mother and sisters back home depend on him to help out. His father expects him to become a partner in their business and inherit it when necessary. Ichigo's friends need him to watch out for them and be there to bitch at Isshin when he forgets not everyone has the energy and enthusiasm of a twelve year old like him. Not to mention Ichigo is still very much promised to a girl back home, with whom he must 'make red-haired babies', as his dad phrased it.

"Ichigo."

The quiet call startles him from his brooding; they rarely use given names in public spaces, even if it is just the library. He looks up to see Ishida has set his text aside and is approaching him with a hand outstretched. Ichigo takes it and is pulled to a stand. They maintain the connection against better judgment. He sees Ishida's grandfather glance at their hands and his mustache twitches as the corners curls up.

"What is it?"

"I want you to meet someone. Come on."

Guessing who it might be, Ichigo falls silent and follows. They reluctantly let go of each other right before they step into the hallway. Down and up dozens of flights of stairs, over countless squares of stone, and through too many doors and archways to remember, they make the trek to the other side of the palace until they reach the sultan's suites. Nestled inside a network of chambers is the one where Ishida's mother stays.

"Mother, are you awake?" he calls as soon as they enter the room. Ichigo closes the door behind them after nodding to the bored guard behind it. "Are you feeling well enough for a visit? I've brought a friend to introduce."

"Oh, a friend? I must look a mess." Reclining against a stack of pillows stabilized by the headrest, Ishida's mother exhales a weak laugh and smiles in greeting. She combs pale fingers through her dark hair. "I think I have felt a little livelier lately. Please stay as long as you like."

Ishida grabs a couple of chairs from around the table across the room and sets them beside her bed while Ichigo gives the customary greeting. He notes a strong resemblance with her son; this is who Ishida gets his more delicate features from. Although the color is from Ryuuken, she has the exact same kind eyes as Ishida when he's feeling particularly affectionate or content. Ichigo instantly likes her.

"This is Ichigo of clan Kurosaki. He comes from the land across the desert to the East. He has been a guest here for several moon cycles, learning much of our culture."

"It is good to meet you, Ichigo," Kanae says before breaking into a coughing fit. Ishida holds her shoulder and offers a cloth to hold against her mouth. It comes away dotted with red. When she regains her breath, she thanks her son and adds, "You must be the young man who has kept my Uryuu in such good spirits lately."

"Uh, yeah—Yes. I guess that would be me."

"Then I must thank you. Truly. It is a rare soul who can match Uryuu's kindness."

"You're welcome," Ichigo mumbles, embarrassed. She might not be thanking him if she knew the extent of his 'kindness' towards Ishida. "He has done much for me, as well. I'm the lucky one here."

He listens to the haggard sounds of her labored breathing and wonders how long she has been like this. Ishida holds a cup for her to sip from with practiced movements. Then he dampens a cloth to pat against her forehead. She takes it from him and deliberately sets his hands back in his lap, a polite dismissal of attentions.

"He'll be leaving soon," Ishida mutters at his hands, wringing where they were placed. "I wanted you to meet him before..."

"I see," she nods with motherly perception. "Then perhaps it is your turn to visit his country."

"Father would never allow it."

The three of them hesitate in the aftermath of a hard truth. If there was an easy way around this quandary, they would have already found it. Kanae rescues them from ensuing misery by asking Ichigo about himself. He tells her of his childhood and the people he loves. Ishida joins in with comments and short anecdotes. Soon it becomes a lighthearted conversation punctuated with laughter and enriched by joy.

"You remind me of my mother," he tells her with a wide grin. "Only she's crazier."

"One shouldn't call their parents 'crazy', Ichigo," the prince mock-chastises him with a playful ruffle of orange hair. "It is simply disrespectful."

They chuckle about that for a few seconds before they realize that Kanae is looking at them oddly. There is a knowing gleam to her eyes as she glances between the two men. A bittersweet smile crosses her face and she reaches for her son's hand to hold in both of hers. Recognizing the somber atmosphere, his grin melts into a shallow frown. Kanae watches him with a deep sadness.

"You love this man, don't you, Uryuu?" He pulls his hand from hers in shock, looking down and breathing harder. Ichigo tenses, unsure. "No. You're _in love_ with him."

"Mother, I—"

"It's okay," she reaches for him, shushing and holding him close. "It's okay, my sweet boy. I already knew. There is not a single thing about you that I don't love unquestioningly. I will always love you more than anything in this world. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Ishida sighs into her dress. "Thank you."

It's such an important, intimate moment and Ichigo knows he should go. Look away at the very least. But he watches with welling eyes and frozen tongue. They separate and Ishida blushes a little when he glances at Ichigo. They haven't actually talked about this in open terms yet. Although it's pretty obvious to them how they feel about each other, they haven't quite rallied the courage to make wild declarations. Or even modest ones, aside from Ichigo's spontaneous claim during a moment of passion.

Ichigo leaves that alone for now to ask, "I-if you're fine with Uryuu and I...being together...then why do you look so sad?"

Kanae doesn't answer him with words, but he gets it anyway. She can see their relationship is doomed. So many factors stand against them. How could it ever work out? He opens his mouth to start arguing, rebelling against the idea that they're helpless to the flow of their own lives, but Ishida's mother devolves into a another episode that leaves her winded and dizzy. More blood coats the sullied cloth.

"We should let you rest," Ishida states in a tight voice. "This was too much activity at once. I'll send Lady Unohana to your chambers."

Before Kanae can respond to that, Ishida grabs him and darts through the door. Ichigo knows better than to argue. A quick side-trip to request the healer's help is the only detour they take. They don't stop until after they reach Ishida's rooms, secured behind the heavy set of doors. The moment they're safe, Ishida covers his face in his hands and leans against the wall, slowly sinking down to the floor.

Ichigo is beside him in an instant. Pulling Ishida against him and murmuring warm assurances between kisses to his hair. The man shakes with dry sobs but doesn't make a sound. Ishida's hands curl into the back of his shirt as he buries his face against Ichigo's neck. Erratic breaths flow warm and cool against it. There's nothing he can say to make the pain disappear. All he can do is be here to share it with Ishida.

Ichigo's heart breaks.

Minutes crawl by. Ishida relaxes his grip and lifts his head. Ichigo isn't surprised to see that his eyes are dry: he must have been through this on his own so many times that holding back the tears became second-nature long ago. He kisses the prince so lightly their lips barely graze. Ishida touches their foreheads together. His hands slide along Ichigo's arms and pause at the clink of his 'bracelets'. Fingertips trace around the golden links, symbols that were once so resented newly treasured.

"I'm in love with you, too," Ichigo murmurs.

"I know," he replies as his movements still. "I can't talk about it. What happens when you have to..."

"I know."


	6. EndBegin

VI – End/Begin

* * *

"Here, take this bowl for Yuzu, it's pure copper. Great for cooking." Uryuu hands him the fifth gift for Kurosaki's family and starts looking around for another. "Is that everything? Don't forget your _Shamshir_. Do you have enough room for a spare cloak?"

"Uryuu, take a breath!" Taking the objects from his hold and setting them on the bed, Kurosaki fills emptied palms with his own. "As much as I appreciate your generosity, there is a limit to how many things we'll be able to take back with us. I'm pretty sure it's just my dad coming to collect me today. Even if he brought the whole team, they won't want to carry a bunch of stuff for me."

"Perhaps we could provide servants to journey with you—"

"You don't need to give me anything else: you've already given me everything."

The way Kurosaki's eyes bore into his as he says it tells Uryuu he doesn't just mean physical objects. He pulls Uryuu into their hundredth hug of the day and he can't be sure whether they are making this better or worse. The fact that they've spent the entirety of this morning and last night locked in Uryuu's rooms and decidedly unclothed further complicates his feelings on the matter. Kurosaki promises to visit, but...it still hurts so much.

It feels like he is losing his best friend forever.

Uryuu's eyes sting and he knows this will be the only time he allows himself to cry over this. All he manages is one teardrop. More than that and he'll never stop. He tries to wipe it away before Kurosaki sees but he's too late. He makes a choking sound and kisses Uryuu hard, then soft. His hands shake where they cling loosely to Uryuu's waist.

"Tell me to stay, Uryuu," he begs against his mouth. "One word and I'm yours."

His chest constricts around his heart and Uryuu has never wanted anything more in his life. Yet, this is one thing he knows he can never ask.

He pushes Kurosaki away and reaches for a special tool, using it to sever a link in the golden chain encircling Kurosaki's throat. It hits the floor with a decisive _clink_. They stare at each other with shared torment at this action's meaning. The moment passes and Uryuu quickly removes the other four rings. Kurosaki rubs thoughtfully at a freed wrist, already missing the bracelets' familiar weight.

"Go: your father must be waiting."

"Uryuu, I lo—"

" _Go_ ," he hisses with eyes shutting tightly against the look on Kurosaki's face. "Please just go."

Kurosaki watches him for a long time before slowly reaching for his bag and turning to leave. He pauses at the door but doesn't look back, head dipping downward as he leaves. Uryuu stands staring at the closed door longer than he cares to acknowledge. He's afraid that if he moves even the slightest he will crumble and fall apart like a forgotten sandcastle.

* * *

 _Memories tick by like a string of beads, a colorful cascade of meaningless moments in time. Uryuu watches them with the unbreakable apathy of the living dead. Something he earned when Kanae died mere months after his true love left him for good. He wanted to leave, too, and at least be with her if he could not be with_ him _. Yet, life is never so merciful and Uryuu lived on._

 _His father congratulated him on finally besting Arena Master Tousen in a fair fight. He had no more combat skills to acquire, no more essential knowledge to gain before taking the crown. All he lacked was experience and a fertile queen. So, the prince married a noblewoman and became a king. He produced heirs and raised them well. Uryuu followed the plan, leading his country's people with detached precision._

 _Uryuu did everything he was told and received his just reward: a pointless existence._

A door slams and Uryuu jolts out of the nightmare. His face is numb where it was resting on the bare stone floor of his bedroom. Disoriented, he haphazardly climbs to unsteady feet, knocking over a vase and starting at the shatter. He hears a scream from the hall. Someone is yelling his name. Uryuu reaches for the doorknob but his fingers don't want to work. His blood is too sluggish, body stiff from sleep, confusion, and cold.

He doesn't remember choosing to sleep here, a few steps from his bed. Night has already fallen. The last thing he remembers is watching Kurosaki walk out early this afternoon. What is happening to him?

The door finally gives and he stumbles out, halting at what he sees. A group of royal guards is roughly dragging a struggling Nemu away from his chambers. He races to catch up to them, clutching his burning stomach and calling for them to stop. As he gets closer, he realizes that she is dripping red and blotched black from a horrible beating. The soldiers jerk to a stop and she gives a frail cry of pain from the abrupt motion. Uryuu's gut twists so violently that he must brace against the wall as he vomits onto the floor.

"Wha—What the _fuck_ have you done to her!?" he rasps as he wipes at his mouth. "H-how could you do...something like this? How could you...?"

The retinue's leader steps forward and waits for his continued retching to ebb before answering him.

"We found this woman in your room pouring poison down your throat, Prince Ishida. That is probably why you are sick right now. We will summon Lady Unohana immediately."

"What!? No, there must be a misunderstanding. Release her this instant!"

"But, Prince Ish—"

"I said _get your hands off her_!" The shout triggers a nasty cough but Uryuu still shoots them a warning glare. The men let his only childhood friend go and she crumples to the floor where they drop her. "Now leave my sight and fetch the healers."

Uryuu sinks to his knees at her side as they march away. The girl is so abused that one of her eyes is swollen shut, blood trickles from her nose, and her breath is shallow and fast. A light touch to her shoulder produces a grinding sound and she screams again. Some of her bones are broken. White-hot ribbons of fury and anguish whip around inside of him.

"P-Prince Ishida," she gasps. "I'm s-so sorry."

"Shh, it's okay, Nemu. Don't speak. Unohana will be here soon. Just breathe." Looking as if she may faint any moment, she focuses to control her breath. He rips strips from his shirt to use as tourniquets for the worst of her wounds. "Those guards will be punished for this, I swear it."

"No. It was not...not their doing. Master Mayuri found out."

"What? Your father did this to you!?"

"He tried to s-stop me from warning you," she whimpers and Uryuu has to brace an arm against her back to keep her from falling the rest of the way to the ground. "I overheard him."

"What could be so important that he would go so far?"

"You. He wanted to kill you. Poisoned your tea. I couldn't stop him in time."

Mind racing as he considers that, Uryuu's eyes flare wide. He always thought the bastard would never target him directly for fear of inciting the sultan's wrath. Considering what Kurotsuchi said about his mother not long ago, he should have seen this coming. It was only a matter of time before the cretin became more ambitious and decided to take more chances. This way he might even get away with blaming Kurosaki for doing the job right before he left.

"You fed me the antidote just now, didn't you? That's what those soldiers saw you doing."

"Yes."

"You saved my life," he whispers in awe, "By risking your own."

Her one good eye fixes on him and glosses over with emotion. "Yes."

"Thank you, Nemu. You have always been a true friend and I vow to save you from that monster."

"No, Prince Ishida, please don't endanger yourself. You don't realize his power—"

"What has happened here?" Lady Unohana sternly asks as she spots them huddled on the floor like a pair of disaster victims. Hinamori and Isane flank her with large bundles of supplies. "Is that Nemu?"

"Yes. Please tend to her quickly. She has a broken clavicle, among other things, and potentially a concussion."

"What about you, Prince Ishida?" Hinamori squats beside him to ask. "You look paler than usual. Kind of clammy."

"I am fine, thanks to Nemu. Keep her safe until I return. Promise me."

"We promise," Isane firmly nods to him as she lifts a damp cloth to Nemu's forehead. "You can count on us."

"Thank you."

Uryuu rushes back to his room for a new shirt and as many weapons as he can strap onto himself. Then he heads for the palace's lower levels, not hesitating when the worried women call urgent questions to his fleeing form. He takes a corner too quickly and knocks into a suit of armor. Despite being cured, the poison is still taking a toll on him. Uryuu can feel it in the weakness of his muscles, the ragged patter of his heart, and the cold sweat that warns of illness.

He ignores all of it and runs faster.

Since they were little kids, Uryuu has known that Nemu's father was evil. Anyone who could hurt someone as pure and sweet as that child could be nothing else. Yet, he never had the strength, the cleverness, or the courage to do what he should have the day he found the six year-old girl wrapping her own wounds and swearing she only fell. Now he has all three and it's time to use them.

Ramming through the laboratory door and flying inside with weapons drawn like a furious archangel, Uryuu barks at the frightened acolytes to disappear. They do. He roars Kurotsuchi's name, calling him out as he storms through the beehive of dark dungeons. Strange smells spring up from all manner of questionable containers. Potions, powders, and poultices in the making. Poisons, too, no doubt.

Uryuu knocks over a giant glass flask on accident. Then he swipes his sword across a loaded table on purpose. He dives into a destructive frenzy. Crushing, kicking, and spilling the foul concoctions to draw their creator out from the bowels of his sinister station. Spinning to a stop in the midst of this oozing wreckage, Uryuu glances up to see a familiar hooded figure step from the shadows of a doorway.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Kurotsuchi spits. "Those aren't spices and sauces you're stirring up, you know. Show some respect."

Uryuu snarls and lunges without preamble.

The demon blocks Uryuu's blade with one of his own. He launches a counterattack that throws Uryuu back and has him slipping in the slough of chemicals. They battle back and forth for short minutes made longer by the gravity of mortal danger. Kurotsuchi fights with the calculated calm of one who has lost the fear of death through steady insanity. He laughs as Uryuu's movements slow from strain.

The steel of his scimitar warps under the weight of a hatchet in Kurotsuchi's left hand. He parries Uryuu's drawn dagger with the straight sword in his right. Then Uryuu drops the scimitar and has to grab his last dagger to keep the hatchet from embedding in his neck. Weapons locked, they grunt and heave against each other. Kurotsuchi sneers at him, sensing victory.

"As soon as you're out of the way, I'll finish your mother off," he hisses through his teeth. "Maybe I'll study her first, perform a living autopsy to diagnose her disease. Your grandfather would also make an excellent test subject for a new drug I invented."

"My father will stop you even if I can't!"

"We'll see about that."

Lungs working hard to compensate for heavy activity, Uryuu's rage starts to fade in lieu of dread. He knew it was reckless but he thought he had a chance. How strong can a bottom-dwelling potion-master really be? But as the mad gleam of those yellow eyes brightens with wicked glee, Uryuu starts to comprehend his own foolishness. Maybe this was what he wanted in the first place. If Uryuu attacks him first, then Kurotsuchi can't be condemned for defending himself. Without Uryuu around to thwart his every scheme, he'll have free reign of the palace!

"NO!" he bellows and throws everything he has left at the beast. "I'll kill you!"

Batting his blows aside like a bored cat, Kurotsuchi spins to jam the butt of his sword against the side of Uryuu's head and send him careening into a tall bookshelf. It falls with a battering shower of books that disarms and traps Uryuu. Coughing from the cloud of dust, he groans as pain flares up, blood spreading warmth across his scalp. He is too dazed to escape in time. Kurotsuchi stands above him with a terrifying leer.

"Looks like you won't be killing anything ever again, my young prince."

The blade slowly rises. Uryuu shuts his eyes.

A sudden clatter and shout has them snapping open. Kurotsuchi is being driven back by slices so swift and powerful that they blur and whistle midair. Grimacing as he cranes his neck to see his rescuer, Uryuu freezes in shock. It is Kurosaki and his father, both wielding dual-swords and black-clad in flowing capes like dark knights. It is so jarring that Uryuu wonders if he must be dreaming again. Or dead.

The shrilling screech of Kurotsuchi's cry as he is slit across the chest tests that theory. A venomous wrath explodes from that yell but Kurosaki is not daunted. He slashes out again and again, until he has Kurotsuchi backed against the wall hissing at him like the scared snake he is. Kurosaki releases a fierce shout as he lifts his arm to make the killing blow. At the last instant, Kurotsuchi shatters a glass sphere on the ground that billows a thick blue miasma around them all, obscuring everything.

It clears soon enough, but the bastard has already turned-tail during the distraction. Kurosaki curses and spits at the ground where Kurotsuchi bled. His father runs forth in search at a quick glance for Kurosaki's acknowledgment. Uryuu lets his head rest on the ground in relief, groaning when the movement hurts. It draws Kurosaki's attention and he hurries to Uryuu's side. They work together to free him from under the heavy bookshelf.

"Ichigo? What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Kurosaki withholds answers in favor of moving Uryuu to a chair so he can look over his wounds more thoroughly. A practiced routine between them. Once he confirms the injuries are not life-threatening, Kurosaki hugs him far too tightly. Uryuu is not complaining.

"I came back because I remembered something really important. I ran into Nemu and Unohana near your rooms and they told me where you probably went. What the hell were you thinking, Uryuu? Taking on some demented alchemist all by yourself? Nemu told me you were poisoned, too! Do you have a death wish?" When Uryuu's only answer to this interrogation is to look away from him, Kurosaki scowls. "What was that, just now? That monster was about to vanquish your light and you just—what—gave up?"

"I was too weak, I couldn't—"

"Bullshit!" Kurosaki snaps. He yanks Uryuu's chin up to force him to meet his enraged gaze. "You don't get to give up, do you understand me? _Never_. You can't do that to me, Uryuu."

Murmuring an apology he has never meant more, Uryuu nearly sobs in happiness when Kurosaki kisses him. Something he thought he could not feel again. It may have been mere hours since they parted, but to him it seemed like _years_.

"Well...I guess this answers that question," Isshin says from the doorway as he shuffles back into the room. They break the kiss but don't bother putting distance between them. "No sign of your enemy, but I doubt he'll be in any shape to put up much of a fight for a while. Good job, son!"

"We have to find him. He threatened to go after my family."

"I'll have a word with the sultan."

"Dad used to know him when they were younger," Kurosaki explains, "He'll listen. In the meantime, we need to fetch your mom's cure."

" _What_?"

He smiles at Uryuu. "That's why I came back. I thought it seemed familiar when I met your mother. The symptoms reminded me of something I had seen as a kid. Talking with dad about it earlier jogged the memory."

"You're saying you know this disease? There is a cure?"

"Yeah, but we don't have it with us. See, back in our country the affliction doesn't really exist anymore since an effective medicine was developed to counteract it. There just isn't much demand for it these days. But we still know how to make it."

"T-that is excellent news," Uryuu breathes, brimming with gratitude. "We must get to it immediately."

"...Only problem is the main ingredient is a plant native to my country. It doesn't grow here."

"You boys will have to take a quick trip across the sands and pick some flowers," adds Isshin with a grin and a wink. "Might wanna get your boyfriend patched up first, Ichigo. He's lookin' sorta pale."

"I was poisoned," Uryuu says in a flat tone, ignoring the 'boyfriend' comment. "And I'm always pale."

"He doesn't get out much," Kurosaki agrees as he helps Uryuu stand up. "Let's go find Unohana."

"All right, but we must leave tonight; it isn't safe for us here anymore."

"Agreed."

* * *

The sultan glares at the folded parchment his father places in his hand. Souken interlocks his emptied fingers and watches him with a somber expression. His frown deepens at the older man's lack of explanation. Ryuuken opens the letter and immediately identifies his son's neat handwriting. Apprehension blooms as he begins to read it. When he finishes, Souken is still staring with a grim set to his brow.

"He gave this to you before he left?"

"No, he sent it with a pair of trusted servants, young apprentice healers Hinamori and Isane. I don't believe he wished to take the chance that I might try to stop him."

"Of course you would have stopped him!" Ryuuken snaps, throwing the paper to the ground in frustration. "What kind of fool have I raised who would act so rashly?"

"Did you read it or not, Ryuuken? They have a cure for Kanae."

"Do you think she would be glad knowing her precious son risks himself on her behalf? I could have sent any number of soldiers to fetch this _plant_. Uryuu belongs here, under my protection. Not roaming around with that Kurosaki boy."

"He almost died under your protection!" booms Souken in a rare fit of temper. "His friends were the ones who saved him. How is Uryuu safe when he can be poisoned in his own bedchamber?"

"Poisoned!? Kurotsuchi?"

"You know it was." Chastened, Ryuuken sinks into a chair and closes his eyes, raising hands to rub over his face. His father takes pity and lets his anger go. "The time for subterfuge has passed. You must not allow this to continue further. Uryuu escaped tonight, but what will happen next time?"

Before Ryuuken can answer, a heavy knock to his door precedes Isshin's harried entrance. He nods a greeting to Souken before turning to the sultan with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

"It's time for Plan B, Ryuuken."

The sultan sighs.

* * *

Howling wind softens the silence between them in the dark tent. The same one on the city's outskirts in which they forged the beginnings of their bond so many nights ago. Ichigo lies behind him, arms circling securely as he places light kisses along the line of an exposed shoulder. The warm splay of his fingers over Uryuu's belly beneath the shirt are more comforting than he can say.

"Are you sure this is all right?"

"The last place Kurotsuchi would look for me is in the royal tent right outside the city. Especially since I asked Hanatarou to spread rumors that we already left. Besides, he took heavy damage and I doubt he will be eager to track me down when he knows you are with me."

"I meant us, like this. I don't know the protocol for poison. Should I be keeping you awake or something?"

Smiling at the hidden suggestion in his voice, Uryuu turns his head to meet Ichigo's curious eyes. "You heard Unohana: I will be fine since I received the antidote so swiftly. Staying hydrated and getting plenty of sleep will yield the quickest recovery."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You're already doing it, Ichigo," he assures with a smile. "Stop worrying so much."

"I know, I know," Ichigo sighs and accepts the comforting kiss he is offered. "I just...I keep thinking about how close I came to losing you today. In _three_ different ways. You don't know what it's doing to me."

"I do. I was dreaming before Nemu found me. Maybe it was just the toxin wreaking havoc on my subconscious, but I saw a vision of my future."

"Really?"

Uryuu finishes turning all the way around to lie facing Ichigo properly. Their legs intertwine without hesitation or deliberate thought. He looks into brown eyes and finds identical fears reflected back at him.

"It was the worst possible future: the one without you in it. I became my father, only worse because I couldn't even hold on to the will to care for my subjects as he does. Nothing mattered with you gone, Ichigo. And as soon as I awoke, I knew I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting you go. That is why I accepted my fate in the dungeon when that monster had me pinned. I was too weak to fight for that kind of life you couldn't be part of. I'm so sorry I let you down."

"Uryuu," he rasps, holding him until he must struggle for breath, yet not tightly enough.

"Stay, Ichigo. I vow to never again give up on fighting as long as you are with me. Please stay with me?"

" _Always_."


	7. A Perilous Journey

Their departure the next morning is delayed for a couple of reasons. First, Uryuu tries to pack any and everything to the extent that they would need an extra camel just to accommodate unnecessary crap. Ichigo forgives him readily enough, considering he has never been on a long trip like this and has no clue how to prepare or what to expect. Second, Ichigo ends up tackling the prince for a quick bout of amorous activity due to how 'cute' Uryuu is when he's excited about getting to go on his very own journey for once.

By the time they mount their camels and set out, the sun is already nearing its zenith.

Enthusiasm is quick to wane as the novelty of travel gives way to long hours spent in the vast desert's suffocating heat and stinging sand. Ichigo keeps checking on Uryuu every few minutes to make sure he won't faint. He seems to be recovering quickly from the failed assassination attempt, but they can't be too careful.

In the meantime, Ichigo regales him with tales of his homeland. He tells Uryuu all about his family and friends along with childhood anecdotes that he hasn't had a chance to share yet. Ichigo talks until his tongue dries and his lips chap, rejoicing in Uryuu's soft laughter and insightful comments. Together they make the day go by faster until it is time to stop and make camp. Their tent is small and minimalistic but they don't need much. They stay close to keep each other warm through the chilly night.

A few days pass like this. Ichigo takes heart from the fact that they never seem to run out of topics to discuss. It was different in the palace with all those people around and they could never be truly at ease. Always watching what they said or did so no one would know about them. Ichigo revels in the freedom to express his love whenever and however he chooses. That nagging anxiety of almost losing this steadily sinks until it is barely there anymore. He starts to believe this past season isn't going to simply vanish like a fanciful dream.

"There should be a village around here somewhere," Ichigo announces as they crest a wide hill. "We should replenish our supplies while we can because the next one is several days' travel away."

"Oh, I see it! I think this is where we barter for domesticated Oryx."

"Those deer-looking things with crazy-long antlers? Do they taste good?"

"Not bad," Uryuu shrugs, pulling the reigns to guide his camel towards the small town. "But they're more of a status symbol than livestock anyway. Kind of like owning your own tiger...only less dangerous. All the noble houses are collecting them these days."

"I'd rather have the tiger," grins Ichigo with a meaningful glance at Uryuu. "Danger and all."

"Is that so?" Uryuu happily flirts back, "Perhaps you need a reminder of the perils of wildcat ownership. I think we might be due for a training session soon. Wouldn't want to get rusty."

"Oh, hell yes!"

"Winner chooses weapons," he declares before spurring his camel into a sprint.

Ichigo laughs as he gives chase. They gallop down the broad hill, kicking up thin clouds of dust in their wake, until they reach the city's short gates. Uryuu dismounts first with a victory smirk and leads his camel to a narrow trough to drink. Conceding defeat with his expression, Ichigo hands off his camel and walks into the village to find a local merchant. Uryuu trusts his experience to barter the best deal for their money, not that they need worry on that front. Ryuuken may be many things but he was never the type to be unfairly stingy with his wealth.

Waiting for Ichigo's return, he gazes out over the blinding golden sands they have traversed and thinks of his mother. All he can do is hope that she will make it just a bit longer so he can cure her. This medicine will help a lot of other people in his country, too. The sickness is not well understood but it has been spreading in recent years. If Ichigo's recipe works as promised, many lives will be spared. That is why he made sure to leave a copy of the formula with his grandfather just in case. If they fail, the cure must not be lost.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Uryuu turns to assess the speaker and gapes in surprise at who he finds. "Lady Shihouin!"

"Ah, if it isn't little Uryuu," the jovial woman cries as she draws closer. "It's been a while, huh? Call me Yoruichi!"

"Yes, I heard you visited recently but we never crossed pa— _Oomf_!"

Losing his breath from a spontaneous, crushing hug, Uryuu hesitantly returns it with a few awkward pats on the woman's back. Given that he has known her since he was a small child, it isn't exactly unprecedented for her to show some affection, but Uryuu isn't a child anymore. Ample curves pressed against his body provide a stark contrast to the solid planes he is used to on Ichigo, but a fleeting comparison confirms his preference.

"I leave you alone for ten minutes and someone is already trying to adopt you," teases an approaching Ichigo as Yoruichi finally releases him. "Sorry, lady, but he already has a home."

"Oya, who's this?" Leaving Uryuu to inspect him instead, she leans close to peer at his face for a better look. Ichigo stands his ground somewhat uncertainly. "He's a looker, Uryuu! Is this your man? These muscles just for show or do you know how to use 'em?"

Shaking her groping hand from his biceps, Ichigo shoots him a silent question. Uryuu replies with a wicked smirk.

"He knows how to use them," he decisively answers for Ichigo. "Actually, we're planning to train together later."

"Ooh, can I watch?"

"No!" Ichigo snaps at the same time that Uryuu answers in the affirmative. "I've seen what happens when you get in a 'fighting' mood. We don't swing that wa—"

Clamping a hand over Ichigo's mouth, he shakes his head when Yoruichi turns puzzled eyes on him. It would really be best to avoid bringing up the illegal union of foreign diplomats that Ichigo once witnessed if at all possible. She isn't exactly renowned for her serene temper and Uryuu really doesn't know her _that_ well. Thinking of a quick distraction, he changes the topic with a question.

"What are you doing in this village without your entourage, Lady Yoruichi? Do you need an escort?"

Uryuu winces as Ichigo's eyes flash accusatorily at the invitation. He pushes Uryuu's hand from his mouth so he can gripe some more, but Yoruichi preempts him.

"Matter of fact, I could use a couple of able-bodied traveling companions. I'm going incognito after an unfortunate incident in your palace. Are you headed eastbound?"

"Yes, we are—"

"We don't need a trouble-making tag-along," Ichigo interjects. He steps between Uryuu and her to say, "We're in a hurry and can't afford to get mixed up in whatever shenanigans you'd bring down on our heads. If you're looking for bodyguards, I suggest you hire some sturdy blacksmith or something."

"I don't need a bodyguard, you naive sapling," Yoruichi corrects with a flick to the tip of his nose. "I've got a decade of battle experience on you two; if anything, _I_ would be protecting _you_."

"Then why do you want to join us?"

"'Safety in numbers' ring a bell? I'm not the best at rationing provisions and I don't know the way as well as a native like you."

"But—"

"Three can handle the hazards of the desert much better than two, Ichigo."

"Uryuu, you can't seriously be considering this."

"I think it's a good idea. I've known Lady Yoruichi for a long time now—"

"Just Yoruichi. 'Lady' makes me sound old."

"...And despite her capricious personality, I trust her. She is a veteran warrior and reliable in a pinch. While I know you're as capable as anyone, Ichigo, it would put me at ease to know someone else was watching our backs, too."

"Well said, Kiddo," she praises, teeth blazing a white crescent across her dark face. "Except the 'capricious' part. Whaddya say, Ichigo?"

Slapping a hand to his shoulder on the overly familiar appellation, Yoruichi winks in the presence of his suspicious glare. Uryuu regains his attention with a touch to his hand. He raises his eyebrows in question and Ichigo sighs.

"Fine. But only until we reach the first city across the border."

Yoruichi lifts the grip on his shoulder to pat his cheek, and says, "Good boy."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs and waves her away. "Just keep your hands off Uryuu and we'll get along."

"Feisty _and_ protective. I like it!"

Uryuu snickers at his guardian's flabbergasted expression. Feeling generous, he leans in to murmur his thanks and kiss the corner of Ichigo's mouth. The man accepts it with a look that demands more gratitude the next time they're alone.

* * *

Dusk descends as they finish gathering and packing their supplies, including a third dromedary for Yoruichi. She parts ways with them for the night, agreeing to meet up before dawn the next day. They eschew the foreign comfort of a villager's spare room for the privacy of their own tent on the outskirts. Uryuu promised they would spar and he would rather do so well away from prying eyes.

They face each other in the moonlit shadow of a tall dune. Dull colors bleed into a smooth monochrome across the cooling desert. A small campfire creates a flickering burst of gold nearby. The wind has settled for the night, casting a calm over the landscape even as the two men tense in anticipation. Ichigo tosses off his black cloak while Uryuu unclasps and rolls up his white cape to set beside him. Bright stars blink to the beat of their racing hearts as they start to slowly circle each other. Grinning, Ichigo twirls a wooden staff and Uryuu tightens the grip on his.

Sand shifts underfoot as they move in tandem. The hollow _thunk_ of dry wood echoes in an excited succession of blocked blows. Uryuu spins and dodges his opponent's half-hearted swipes with ease. Until he knocks Ichigo's feet from under him and laughs aloud at the stunned look on his face. So he jumps up and tackles Uryuu, stealing a kiss until he is pushed away.

"Not so fast," Uryuu chastises as he rolls to a stand and retrieves his staff. "You have to earn it this time."

Ichigo scoffs and shakes dust from his wild hair. Instead of reaching for his staff, he grabs a coil of thin rope and knots one end into a lasso. Uryuu raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment on his strange choice of weaponry. Especially when Ichigo throws the loop and misses, leaving himself open for a strike to his right side. Uryuu follows it up with a knock to his thigh but his aim for the midsection is countered by a quick knee.

Separating to regroup, they appraise each other with elevated breathing. Ichigo readies his lasso in a steady swoop over his head. Channeling something much older than himself, Uryuu narrows his eyes in concentration for the throw. The line zips out harmlessly as he dashes forward at just the right instant and Ichigo curses on another miss. Uryuu slams into him and they both go down. Shoulders pinned by the sturdy staff, Ichigo smirks when his ear is nipped.

"Bad cat," he murmurs even as he turns his head to let Uryuu bite and lick along his neck. "Looks like I'll have to tame you after all."

"If you think you're up for the task."

"Try me."

"Best me in a match for once and maybe I will reward you by calling you...'Master'."

On the final word, his lips lock on a pulse point and suck. Ichigo moans.

Fueled by this enticing promise, he reluctantly parts from Uryuu and drags the rope back to prepare for another attempt at snaring him. This time his aim is true and the rope falls around his fleeing target. Ichigo immediately yanks to tighten the loop before his adversary can escape. Uryuu uses the staff to brace against the rope's constricting tug. Before he can wriggle free, Ichigo jerks the line to pull his captive to his knees and rush forward to draw out the staff.

Uryuu huffs as the rope is cinched around chest and arms. The slack is used to reinforce his bindings even though he isn't struggling. Ichigo kneels behind him and hugs Uryuu to him, resting his chin on a shoulder. His hands start to drift lower over his clothes.

"Told you I could handle it, Uryuu."

"Maybe I let you catch me," he shoots back, humming as Ichigo's fingers spread across his inner thighs. "But the fight is yet to be settled."

"You're going to beat me without your arms?"

"Are you calling my abilities into question?"

Ichigo snickers and instantly regrets it. He is shoved backward and Uryuu leaps up to plant a foot on his throat. When Ichigo starts to reach up to dislodge him, the pressure increases to threaten his air supply, so he lowers his arms again. It's Uryuu's turn to smile in victory. Except Ichigo surges upright to drag him down. Uryuu was expecting it; he reacts by wrapping his legs around Ichigo's neck and squeezing.

He pushes and wiggles to no avail. When his vision starts to dim, Ichigo relents.

"I concede," he rasps with a tap to the legs trapping him. He is quickly released.

With a growl, Ichigo stirs sand to get the upper hand. He leans over Uryuu and steals a taste of the prize he didn't earn. The heat of his palm rubs over the ropes to rest lower. The result is a gasp as blue eyes close and back arches. Ichigo bites his lip to see his lover respond so positively to the light touch. No matter how many times they are together, it never loses any of its appeal. Ichigo doesn't see how it ever could.

"When are you going to stop taking it easy on me?" Uryuu demands with sudden fervor. "You think I can't tell the difference? Try taking this seriously sometime!"

"How do you expect me to use real force against you? Do you go all-out on me?"

"No, but at least I don't roll over like a trained _puppy_."

"I can't help it if I don't want to hurt you!"

"What if you hurt me by treating me as if I'm made of glass? I can handle a few bruises and cuts, you know."

"I'd rather you be mad _at_ me than have to bear a single scratch _because_ of me."

"Then what do you call these hickeys you keep sucking into my skin?"

Just like that, their almost-argument is defused. The thought of making hickeys on Uryuu makes him look at the man's neck, which makes him want to lean down and kiss it. Then Uryuu's happy moan draws attention to his mouth and soon they're forgetting all complaints in favor of making out. Just as Ichigo is seriously considering keeping him tied up while he has his way with him, a rustling sound nearby has them both freezing to listen.

"Don't stop on my account."

Both pairs of eyes lock onto the intruder at the same time. Yoruichi is perched at the top of the dune overlooking their sparring grounds. She grins and drops down to walk up while they break away to stand up. Ichigo hastily unwraps Uryuu and helps brush dirt from his clothes. Their visitor eyes them with unguarded intrigue.

"What are you doing out here?" snaps Ichigo. "Weren't you supposed to be staying the night in town?"

"Our little prince was kind enough to invite me to your 'training' session. Who am I to say no?"

"Ever heard of 'privacy'?"

"These things are not considered shameful in my country. Such restrictions are a waste of time. Why not enjoy life to the fullest?"

The two of them banter back and forth like this while Uryuu unsuccessfully tries to smother his amusement at Ichigo's embarrassment. Although he isn't keen on the idea of an audience, either, Uryuu knows too much about Yoruichi's culture and personality to hold it against her. It's flattering, in an awkward sort of way. Besides, he suspects another reason for her visit.

Interrupting Ichigo's tirade, he gravely asks her, "Are we in danger?"

Yoruichi frowns as Ichigo falls silent. She swipes her hair from its perch on her shoulder and crosses her arms before answering.

"Hard to say. I've been keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Thought I saw a cagey man in a brown cowl in town. Same one I recently spotted in the outskirts of your city, Uryuu. Could be nothing but I'd rather be safe."

"We'll stay on-guard," Ichigo swears. Then he reluctantly adds, "Thanks for the heads-up."

"My pleasure."

Since her grin is a little too wide, Ichigo narrows his eyes in confusion until Uryuu explains.

"She's volunteering to keep watch for us."

"What? No way, you pervert! Uryuu, come on...She's probably making this up anyway."

"How do you think this is going to work after we leave the town?" he counters as he starts to guide Ichigo toward their tent, leaving Yoruichi to resume her post at the top of the dune. "The three of us will be in close-quarters, you know. Are you sure we can keep our hands off each other all the way to your hometown? If so, I commend your restraint but I'll admit I have no such confidence in my own abilities."

Pulling Ichigo into the small tent, Uryuu shoves him to the bedding within and quickly follows him down. He starts shrugging out of his clothes as he straddles Ichigo's hips. Weak protests are countered by Uryuu's tongue. Smiling around the kiss, he practically purrs in victory when Ichigo stops resisting and responds instead. His hands splay across the small of Uryuu's back; he only objects when his clothes are being pushed out of the way.

"Wait, wait," Ichigo turns his head to complain. Not to be deterred, Uryuu kisses along his collar bone instead. "She might not be able to see us, but Yoruichi can definitely hear us, right? That doesn't bother you at all?"

"Not really. But if it bothers you, then we'll just have to be quiet."

The last word is uttered as the last barrier is removed. Ichigo shouts at the sensation of a wily mouth, always welcome as a lush oasis.

* * *

A scattered set of wind-sculpted rocks like great craggy pillars spear the landscape at irregular intervals as far as the eye can see. Narrow at the base, they flare out at the crest to resemble rough orange and yellow-spangled mushrooms. They are uniformly ringed by a depression of sand wide enough to stand in. Uryuu lifts a hand to block the sun as he gazes up at shaded undersides as they pass the stately behemoths.

"All the sketches and descriptions in the world could never convey the sheer splendor of this desert."

"If you're impressed by a bunch of big rocks, wait till you see my country's forests," Ichigo tells him with a proud smile. "Trees so tall you have to lie on the ground to see all the way up. Rivers so wide you can't shoot an arrow to the opposite shore. Caves so deep you could drop a stone and wait minutes to hear it hit."

"Oh, yeah?" Yoruichi joins in, nudging her camel to fall in line between theirs. "Do either of you have any Great Pyramids? Pinnacle of human ingenuity once upon a time."

"Well, we've got some pretty nice temples..." mutters Ichigo. "I don't know if they're as big as your pyramids, though."

Uryuu never knew about any of it. He has read almost every book in the considerable royal library so he thought he knew the world as well as anyone. But the difference between reading and seeing is immense. How many books could he fill trying to describe a single sunset? How many paintings would it take to replicate the majesty of these ancient columns? He could easily devote a lifetime to traveling and studying everything about his country, not to mention all the others he may never visit.

Several days and a considerable distance later, Ichigo is finally warming up to Yoruichi. They argued nonstop the first day, with Uryuu mediating mostly out of necessity despite how hilarious he found them. Once they established that she wasn't going to try to seduce Ichigo's prince, he calmed down quite a bit. She told them about her torrid affair with her own servant, how they've been in love for years but couldn't risk a romantic relationship due to outdated laws and restrictions. Ichigo can definitely relate.

Now they are nearing the border. Uryuu can tell by the slight shift in climate. A little less aridity and heat than he is used to, a few more birds and mammals abound. Mountains begin to loom in the distance. Appreciating a cooler breeze is fine, but the dichotomy of temperature also makes sandstorms more prevalent in the area. Not to mention a healthier population of scorpions, snakes, and tarantulas.

Oh, and there's also the caravan of slavers.

Uryuu tugs the reigns to halt his camel in concern. Heading in their general direction is a troupe of about two dozen men in brown clothes leading camels laden with supplies, merchandise, and a collection of ragged-looking people in thick chains. Yoruichi groans while Ichigo growls.

"Is this what I think it is?" tries Uryuu, hoping for dissent.

His companions' silence makes him scowl. Although he isn't naive enough to believe slavery doesn't happen anymore, Uryuu would like to think his father's empire takes ample measures to combat it as thoroughly as possible. The fact the slavers are taking no measures to hide their intentions implies otherwise. Plus, both Ichigo and Yoruichi—who have plenty of experience traveling—seem to accept this as normal.

"Based on their clothes and physical features, the captives were taken from one of the forest villages just beyond the desert." Openly glaring in the caravan's direction, Ichigo clenches his hands around the leather reigns in agitation. "Too poor to pay ransom and too few to mount resistance."

Part of him wants to say that they have to help those people. Uryuu can't stand the thought of allowing such malevolence before his very eyes. Yet, he is not so foolish as to believe the three of them can take on more than twenty armed men. The chances of them coming to a peaceful resolution and agreeing to free their new slaves is also next to nil. They have no choice but to mind their own business and move past.

"Let's keep our distance, yeah?" suggests Yoruichi.

"And don't make eye contact," Ichigo agrees. "They shouldn't attack as long as we don't show interest or weakness."

"For the record, I will be organizing a campaign as soon as we return to the palace," vows Uryuu when an older woman trips on her chains and takes a lash for the mistake. "I'll lead it myself if need be."

"Down, Tiger," Yoruichi quips, drawing a look from Ichigo for stealing the nickname.

They fall silent as the slavers pass close enough to overhear. Keeping their eyes forward and expressions neutral, the trio practically holds their breath for fear of antagonizing them. From the edge of his peripheral vision, Uryuu can see them watching. Curious of their nicer clothing and unusual features. Even with Ichigo's hood pulled low, wild strands of orange hair peek through. Yoruichi is probably the most beautiful woman any of them has ever seen. Despite many days of sun exposure, Uryuu is still far too pale to truly belong to the desert.

Low chatter erupts and the grating clink of chains grows louder. Camels plod by in resigned apathy. Miserable sighs slip from weary slaves slogging behind, a reluctant tail swaying over the blistering sand. A young girl dares to gaze imploringly up at the three strangers. The tilt of her face automatically guiding Uryuu's to swivel in kind. They lock eyes for a stunned instant before she turns away in fear.

A holler makes him twitch. Uryuu faces forward to correct his misstep but it is too late. The lead slaver issues a command that has five underlings leading grunting mounts to block their advance. Uryuu grits his teeth on a useless apology for getting them caught. Yoruichi and Ichigo pull up to guard him on each side without hesitation. He looks to both of them in gratitude before addressing the man in front.

"What is the reason for this interruption?" Uryuu firmly but calmly asks, carefully matching their dialect and accent. "My companions and I have caused you no inconvenience."

"Silence! I will ask the questions and you will answer quickly or die!" Balking at such obvious aggression, Uryuu hesitates on his next words. To his lackeys, the man snaps, "Get them down."

Rough hands reach for them, dragging them off their harried camels to smash into the sand. Their weapons are snatched away and tossed into a pile on the ground well beyond their reach. Finally, they are rounded up and shoved to their knees before the grimacing ring leader. He seems to pay particular attention to Yoruichi, which makes Uryuu even more nervous. There are many reasons a man in this country would stare at her, but judging by the way eyes narrow rather than widen, he assumes Yoruichi's lack of traditional cloth cover for hair and face is to blame for the scrutiny. Women have been killed for less in the old days.

"Please forgive my companion's appearance. This is an outsider visiting from afar," Uryuu preempts the boss' criticism, "She is ignorant of our culture's requisite modesty."

He gets a hard back-hand to the jaw for his unsolicited comment.

"Don't touch him!" snarls Ichigo, struggling to rise from the forced kneel.

The minion holding him jabs a knee into his back to quiet his outcry. Uryuu waits for him to glance up so he can give Ichigo a pointed look. The last thing the prince wants is for his friends to bring unnecessary trouble to themselves for his sake. Ichigo offers a reluctant nod of understanding. Yoruichi flashes him an expression that says while she isn't happy about all this, she doesn't need to be told to keep her mouth shut.

"These are not the garments of a pauper, yet you lack the wares of a wealthy merchant," harshly observes the leader. "From whence do you journey?"

Uryuu gives the name of his city but doesn't imply his lineage. His caution is thwarted as one of the crew steps forward to share a bit of gossip about a traveling prince and his foreign bodyguard. Inspecting them more carefully, the boss makes a blunt assertion of royalty. Uryuu starts to deny the claim but the man isn't asking. He yanks open their outer cloaks to reveal more of the fine palace clothing. A murmur of awe spreads among the bandits. Realizing that lying would be meaningless at this point, the prince starts to confess but Ichigo beats him to it.

"I am the prince," he blurts to Uryuu's horror. "Free my companions and I'll be the best-behaved hostage in history. Hurt them and I'll make you wish you never stumbled upon us."

"He lies! I am the true prince. This is just a servant who does not know his _place_." Yoruichi makes a sharp hissing sound meant to shush Uryuu but he ignores her wordless warning. "I can prove it!"

A chilling leer appears across the boss' face. "Yes. You can."

At a nod from him, two of his gooneys converge on Ichigo and start throwing blows. Rage and terror war for dominance in Uryuu. He fights against his captor and gasps to see spots of red welling on Ichigo's skin from the treatment.

" _Stop_! Stop hitting him!"

The leader laughs and the men hit harder, drawing a rare groan of pain from their victim. Rage wins out and Uryuu releases an inarticulate bellow to announce it. He yells more demands that also go ignored.

"Cut his throat."

A sword is drawn.

" _I will kill you all_!"

The one in charge raises a halting hand just before the blade lands. Every last pair of eyes is on Uryuu for his sheer volume and malice. Even he is a little surprised by it.

"See?" says the boss, bending closer to Uryuu despite his bared teeth. "I knew you would prove it. This one is the bodyguard: only the most loyal dog would react in such a way to his master's demise."

"That's right," Ichigo coughs. He spits blood onto the sand to clearly say, "As I said, these are my servants. They have no value to you, just release them."

"No! Ichigo!"

"Why would I give up two healthy slaves I can add to my inventory? Especially a pair of gems such as these? Beauty fetches fair price whether male or female." the leader informs Ichigo, grabbing his chin to idly examine the fresh wounds. "Resist all you like, Prince. It will do you no good."

Orders are given to lash Uryuu and Yoruichi to the end of the bedraggled procession, as well as their camels, while Ichigo is secured to the boss' own mount for safekeeping. It would be easy to lose all hope now and be resigned to their fate. But Uryuu made a promise never to give up again and he intends to keep it. So, as they are tied too tightly and handled roughly, he is racking his brain for a means of escape. Yoruichi is on the same wavelength. Once the slavers are far enough away, she conspires to him in her language so only he can understand.

They are beginning to formulate a halfway-decent plan when a scared shout interrupts them. One of the thieves is pointing toward the distance where a group of travelers is beginning to resolve in the heat-heavy air. Soon the sounds of hoof-beats can be heard. Uryuu glances to the leader and is shocked to register fear and worry on the stolid criminal's features. He gives frantic commands to his men, freeing up the camels from the train of people and supplies alike. Goods and sundries are dumped for the sake of swiftness as they prepare to flee whoever approaches.

To his utter dismay, the boss does not cut Ichigo loose like the rest but hauls him onto the camel like a sack of grain and urges the animal into a sprint. The entire retinue disbands in a whirlwind of dust and anxious cries to spur their mounts. As they disappear into the horizon to the west, the newcomers gain ground from the east. Within moments, they surround the shaken slaves huddling together for security in the mayhem. Just when Uryuu is wondering if these are even worse scoundrels than those cowards who just ran, he realizes one of them seems familiar.

Long red hair, stark black tattoos, slanted grey eyes. It's one of the Kurosaki clan merchants that he saw in the throne room so many days ago. Uryuu never forgets a face, particularly one so artfully embellished. Drawn by the intensity of his gaze, the man meets his gaze and seems to recognize him, too. He rides over to them and dismounts, speaking in his native language.

"Do I know you?"

"I'm a friend of Ichigo's," he simply confirms in the interest of brevity. "What are your comrades' intentions?"

"Chasing down those assholes who trussed you up. Here, lemme cut you free."

True to this man's word, his companions spread out and begin unfettering and comforting the entire collection of intended slaves. It makes sense that they might be a rescue party; Ichigo said most of these captives are his countrymen apprehended without consent. Once he and Yoruichi are loose, Uryuu offers a respectful display of greeting and gratitude alike.

"Thank you. I am Uryuu and this is Yoruichi."

"Renji of clan Abarai, and you're welcome. If you know Ichigo, maybe you can tell me why he hasn't made it back home yet. He was due yesterday morning."

Uryuu and Yoruichi exchange a look before she volunteers the answer in a slightly less fluent approximation of the language she has had less need of recently.

"That chivalrous fruitcake has been kidnapped so save this bullheaded fool. We'd better give chase if we want to save him."

"What!? That idiot!"

"It's true," Uryuu tells the startled man, "Will you help us?"

Eyebrows flattening in resolve, Renji grunts, "It's not even a question. Rukia!"

"What?"

"We gotta rescue Ichigo from the marauders again."

A petite, dark-haired woman with sharp eyes comes trotting up on a brown gelding.

"Again?" asks Uryuu incredulously. "Has he been taken by them before?"

"Not by that group, no," she answers for Renji, "If they had, they'd know better than to try a second time. Believe me."

Nodding, Renji adds, "I think they're drawn to his unique hair color...But don't worry, he can handle himself."

"All the same, we must hurry. Ichigo is already hurt and the slavers are under the impression that he is royalty."

"We'll get him back," assures Yoruichi with a hand to his shoulder.

"Wait here," Rukia instructs, "I'll round up some horses and inform the captain."

They watch her gallop away as Renji offers them a waterskin.

"Her brother, Byakuya. He won't be happy about it but he secretly likes Ichigo, regardless of all his trouble-making in the past."

That is when Uryuu realizes that they have officially entered Ichigo's world now. Only just met and already his people come to the aid of an unknown prince without a price. He can sense the strength and goodness in Ichigo reflected in his friends. By the time Rukia returns with their horses, Uryuu is feeling much more confident about this turn of events, and about the future in general. Releasing a long exhale, he glances up to see Yoruichi showing him an adventurous grin.

It's finally his turn to protect Ichigo for a change. Uryuu will not fail.


End file.
